


Of Orphans and Loners

by calliope_cp



Series: Loving the enemy [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blow Jobs, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Dream Sex, Dubious Consent (Dream), First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, First Time Bottoming, Frottage, Gay, Guilt, Hand Jobs, Hints of Eating Disorder, Insecurity, M/M, Masturbation, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Self Confidence Issues, Sexual Inexperience, Slow Build, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-03-22 03:54:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 30,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13755762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calliope_cp/pseuds/calliope_cp
Summary: A trip through London leads Harry towards the help he needs to overcome his listlessness. After the War, life seems to lack its reason. He finds it especially hard to deal with – anything. Even his friends are not able to really reach him anymore.When he finds a building that reminds him of his past, he enters and finds...assistance. Even though it is hard to work his way back towards himself, he decides to at least try to get better. His journey also leads him to Draco Malfoy, who seems just as hostile and ignorant towards him as before. But before long his former nemesis is – unbelievably – in every kind determined to pull him out if his misery and help him see himself as the person he is.





	1. Apathy

**Author's Note:**

> Rated E for adult topics and sexual content in later chapters. Also a bit of violence, but not graphic. 
> 
> All the characters and their backgrounds belong to JKR of course.

Everything seemed so empty. He felt nothing but a gaping hollowness inside dragging through his body and mind. Whatever he tried, it seemed like there was not much left of Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. There was no plan, no plot, no more use for him out there. He had done the deeds and no there was just no goal in his life except for existing. Everything else was a farce.

On the outside, he pushed himself harder than ever. No matter what it was – interviews (except Rita, of course), trials, funerals (there were so many of them) or simply spending time with his family and friends – he forced himself to picture whatever he thought might be expected from _The-Boy-Who-Lived-Twice_. That was all he was good for now: Maintaining the image of the surviving hero.

Only a few occasions managed to break through his shell: That night with Ginny, when they had finally talked about what they felt for each other. The moment she admitted that she loved him just like a brother and he had told her the same had been quite alleviative. They had decided to stay siblings (and friends) and told everyone not to make a big deal out of it. Ginny had even managed to force him into several shopping trips so he would finally wear his own clothes instead of Dudley’s.

Then, there was the day he entered Grimmauld Place for the first time since the Yaxley-incident. He had actually felt dumbfound that someone had managed to remove that picture of Mrs. Black. The whole house was a mess. Every room had been searched, destroyed and wrecked in every possible way. After having a whole team of Aurors in his house, Harry had gotten the all-clear to do all the renovations he wanted, along with a few good addresses for furniture, floors, carpets and everything else to renew an hold magical house. His name was enough to get instant service – even though he tried everything he could to reassure people that there was no need for their ASAP-attitude. It was hard enough convincing them to accept his money. The three weeks it had taken for the five teams to turn Sirius’ hold home inside out. Kreacher had hated the renovations with passion but Harry had decided to give him Regulus’ old room and turned it into some sort of weird _Black is beautiful_ museum. Old tapestries, paintings, some furniture and a lot of ancient heirlooms had found their way into the room the houseelf now lived in. It was a weird compromise but it maintained the peace between them.

Also, Kreacher had become truly Harry’s servant during those last weeks. He did everything he could – however grumpily – to support his new Master. Hadn’t it been for the houseelf’s determination, Harry would probably have starved himself to death easily. His appetite had gone lost as much as every other kind of motivation and he never felt truly hungry anymore. Kreacher would make him eat at least twice every day and threatened to summon “the unfortunate Granger-girl” or the “traitorous Redhead” if he didn’t.

All the renovations had kept Harry nearly busy enough to not dwell in his depressed state. After the works had been finished, though, the tiredness of mind had returned in all its force. Only one other moment had sufficed to break its way into his emotional mess. It was the Malfoy Trial, deep down in the dungeon room of the Ministry of Magic. He had dreaded the day.

This Trial had been one of the most important Death-Eater-Trials there was. How to convict someone whose actions had served both sides for the better and the worse? Most of the people had called for maximum penalty and demanded reparations as high as the family’s fortune allowed. Only very few others had at least been sceptical, not to mention insightful. Harry had spent hours and hours of discussion with Ron, Hermione, Luna, Dean and Mr. Ollivander concerning the actions of the Malfoy family. He had known there would be no intercessors for any of the three: Lucius’ friends and business contacts had either been convicted or had cut all ties to the man. Narcissa had always seemed to have a wide circle of gossip addresses, fashion makers or mildly friendly acquaintances but no one would be able to even speak in her favour as she had always kept to herself on that matter. Draco was just as abandoned as his father. Those who hadn’t distanced from him in times of War had left him now it was over.

Harry had surprised his friends with his determination to speak in Draco’s and Narcissa’s favour. He had added that he wouldn’t speak for Lucius, but he would do nothing to keep him from his (deserved) punishment or acquittal, either. After hours and hours of tears and discussions, they had agreed that Harry and Luna would attend the trial. Hermione and Ron were both not resenting Draco and didn’t hold him responsible for what happened in the Manor of during the Battle of Hogwarts anymore, but they were also too absorbed in their grief for the death and fear concerning Hermione’s parents. Mr. Ollivander still hadn’t fully recovered from his time in the cell.

_Reporters were everywhere. His new suit was sweaty already and they had yet to get started. The three Malfoys were chained to their chairs, looking gaunt and forlorn. They still sat as uptight and dignified as possible in their position and answered all of their questions with honest directness and, at some points, anger. Lucius, though in a hopeless position, still had a lot of snide remarks and sarcastic comments in his sleeve and accused several Ministry employees to be not only biased but complicit in several points. Narcissa seemed as unaffected as always. She gave her statement in a monotonic voice, talked about her sister’s death in a completely unconcerned manner and wore her mask with stoic composure._

_Draco tried his hardest to follow suit. His voice wasn’t as steady as his mother’s and his whole body was shaking throughout his interrogation, but he managed to stand his ground. Harry was impressed. Only when Luna stood witness and told the Wizengamot in her very peculiar way that Draco had smuggled food and water into their cell and even talked to them from time to time until he was punished for his behaviour, the façade broke a little and a single tear ran down the pale white face._

_When it was Harry’s turn to speak, he felt as weak as Draco looked. He answered all the questions with conviction and calm until one elderly witch asked him why their hero would bother to defend scum like Draco Malfoy. “He’s not scum!”, Harry answered angrily. “He made some wrong decisions that led to terrible consequences. He was just a child and didn’t know what to do. ” – We all were, he thought. ”Plus, he and his mother saved my life.”, he added._

_“And you saved his several times.”, she countered. “You were even before this trial even started. No, Mr. Potter, I’m starting to question your personal motives here.” Half of the people in the hall gasped. It was eerily silent._

_“What personal motives?”, he growled. “That I don’t think it’s justice when innocents are imprisoned?”_

_“He’s not innocent, Mr. Potter. He still is a former Death Eater; whether you like it or not. Whether or not he will be going to Azkaban, that’s what is to be decided here.”, she said in a nasty voice. “But I have to ask you to continue your statement under the influence of Veritaserum, Mr. Potter.”_

_Now, Kingsley rose to his feet. “On what basis are you demanding such a ridiculous behalf, Roselyn?”_

_She turned to Harry once more and her smile reminded him strongly of Umbridge. That couldn’t be good. “Mr. Potter, are you gay?”, she asked. The whole courtroom gasped in unison._

_He gaped at her, mouth open for nearly a whole minute before he came to his sense. “What? Why would you ask such a thing? What’s got it to do with the trial?” He looked at a very furious Kingsley for support. “Our dear Roselyn here obviously wishes to express her concern that you might be romantically involved with Mr. Malfoy here.”_

_Harry simply stared at him.”I…but I…I mean…”, he stuttered and suddenly looked into Draco’s eyes. They were piercing him in a questioning way, so much like Dumbledore’s – as if he could see all through to his soul. But there was nothing there to find, Harry thought, no truth to be revealed, because, no, he wasn’t in love with Draco. At least, he had never thought about him that way. He caught himself before everyone would declare him a fool._

_“I have no idea what you are talking about.”, he told Roselyn. “And I am very disappointed in your distrust in me. First, my romantic life is no concern of anyone but myself. Second, I do not owe you any kind of explanation. Three, even if it were the case, nothing could influence my motive for wanting to serve justice. And four, Draco and I were enemies at school. We had no positive feelings towards each other over our entire school history. Then, there was a War and fighting and death and loss – when would we have found the time for any sort of romantic interests?”, he spat at her. He had not declined her accusation. Why, he didn’t know. Maybe because he really didn’t know what he felt about Draco Malfoy. Maybe because he had never really thought about his sexuality in general. Maybe because he didn’t want people to think he’d consider an Ex-Death-Eater as too ‘below’ him to be loved._

_His words seemed to have done the trick and the trial went on. Malfoy’s eyes never left his’ since he held the silver gaze. Only when their judgment was read, they parted. Lucius was never to use magic again. He would spend 20 months in Azkaban before a lifelong house arrest. Draco was sentenced to do 3000 hours of community service, Narcissa 500. Their fortune and assets were reduced by nearly two thirds as a compensation for the magical community. Once Kingsley was finished, a riot broke loose._

_Many of the attendees were convinced that this wasn’t enough, that there should be harder punishment and that this wasn’t justice and they were out for blood. The Aurors reacted promptly and brought Harry and the Malfoy’s out of their reach in two different directions. He didn’t even get to say goodbye, which was probably for the best. He had never been a man of many words._

Now he was back in the emptiness of his thoughts. It didn’t matter, whatever it was that he had felt and seen in that short moment of complete openness. He was a shell. He knew that people usually didn’t think that way about themselves but he was absolutely without direction. All his life, others had pushed him around, decided for him or there had simply never been an alternative that left him room to consider the consequences.

No, he had always been either the freak who had to work and suffer silently. Or the brave hero who was to fight and stand tall. And suffer silently. Or he was the only choice left and therefore to suffer silently. Somewhere in between, Harry had lost his ability to even consider what his needs were or how to express the insuperable high wall of pain, grief and remorse that pressed into his chest day-in day-out. Something in his mind had been shut, maybe forever. His friends had, of course, noticed his lack of motivation when it came to, well, living in general, but they also had their own lives, ghosts and pains to face. After all, he gave them the impression that he was able to look after himself, at least physically. That was enough for anyone right now. Sometimes, though, it was George who sent him looks of deep concern and worry but Harry told him that there was nothing anyone could help him with at the moment. He argued it was his way of grieving and the other boy would nod. He, too, understood grief.


	2. St. Mary’s

Truth to be told, he wasn’t _really_ grieving. He had not faced any sort of real emotion since…well, his death. Sure, he was still able to be annoyed, angry or confused and he definitely was still able to empathize but he was in a way disconnected from his own emotions. All he really knew was that he wanted solitude until he could forget his existence for good – no more fighting, running and definitely no more interviews with either journalists or reporters. And no more gifts or love potions via mail.

It had taken the voluntary helpers only about three months to recondition the school. It had been re-opened for anyone who wanted to finish their education, but Harry had declined. McGonnagall had agreed with him when he had explained that his presence would only create disturbance and trouble among the students. He had also declined to join the Aurors. Ron had started to work with George at WWW and they made a surprisingly successful team. Hermione could not be stopped to go back to take her NEWTS as soon as she had brought back her mother and father.

It was autumn now and Harry had sunken into his state of faineance so deeply that even Kreacher tried to encourage him to leave the house or at least eat something. So he reluctantly had a slice of toast and left Grimmauld Place. It was really cold outside but there was just frozen mud and not a hint of snow. The Boy Who Lived Twice wandered around aimlessly for several hours until he stopped dead in his tracks. He knew this place. He had been here before, in another life, in another reality that didn’t contain magic, Wars or friends. This was the place where the Dursley’s had taken him when Uncle Vernon had wanted to teach Harry a lesson in gratefulness. He remembered it clearly, now that he stood in front of it.

_“See this, boy?” His uncle’s grin looked so nasty. The building was not spectacular, in fact, it seemed a little abandoned. There were loud noises coming out of it and it sounded like a mixture of screaming, crying and fighting. Harry shuddered and pulled Dudley’s old jacket closer around himself._

_“What is this, uncle Vernon?”, he asked, trying to sound as intimidated as the man probably wanted him to be. Or maybe he really was._

_“This, boy, is an orphanage. It is for children who do not have parents and no relatives who are generous enough to take them in.”, he added when he saw the five-year-olds unsagacious face. The riot inside grew louder. “Mark my words, boy, if you aren’t behaving like you should, if you are a demanding little brat or if you step one toe out of line – maybe we’ll feel less noble about keeping you under our roof.”, he threatened. ”Do you want to be put here?”_

_As if on cue, one of the staff ladies dragged a sobbing child into their line of sight. The girl was dirty all over. Her supervisor seemed furious about this and slapped her twice across each cheek, even though she kept on screaming that she was innocent and that it had been a prank. Close to them, they saw three boys holding a third one and trying to loosen his trousers while he struggled with all he had. One of the windows of the second floor showed two boys who were choking each other. The girl on the balcony of the third floor had a black eye and a nasty head wound._

_Harry bit his lip and shook his head. He had never been as afraid before. “Please, please, please, don’t. I’ll be a good boy, I promise.”, he pleaded. Next to him, his aunt laughed._

_“Good. Remember this when you have another moment of obnoxious demands.” They pushed him back towards the car. His crime had been to ask why he couldn’t have a schoolbag instead of the huge dispatch case that used to be his uncle’s. It was nearly as big as him._

The building looked exactly the same as all those years before. Even the noise was unaltered. There were still screaming children with their supervisors, still fights and sobs to be heard. When Harry read the sign, he shuddered. No wonder his uncle had picked this institution of all to scare him. It read “St. Mary’s Orphanage for mentally instable and abused children”.

With a sudden urge of determination, Harry entered. The house was clean but really grey. He stood in a small and dark hall where only few colours decorated the walls. He could barely stand the noise. Why was it so noisy? When he took a look around, he found that there were only few adults to be seen in the sea of children. He gulped and turned to leave when he heard a noise.

“Mr. Potter!”

It was impossible. This house, this environment, this whole institution was as Muggle as they came. There was no chance that anyone would recognize him in here. Harry froze on the spot. He had always hated being easily spotted when all he wanted was anonymous isolation. The lady that approached him was dressed in a simple but practically styled way: Pants and blouse, combined with a tasteful scarf. She smiled at his expression.

“I’m sorry to startle you, but I had the impression you were leaving and I really wanted to talk to you before.”, she explained. “My name is Judy.” They shook hands.

“Are you the director?”, he asked. She seemed considerably young for her position, maybe mid-thirty or just forty.

She nodded. “I was offered the position some years ago when the previous director was discharged. Her methods of…well, teaching…were quite…”, she sighed.

“…drastic?”, Harry asked and received a sad nod. “She wouldn’t happen to be a skinny woman with grey-streaked brown curls and very high cheeks? Very shrill voice?”, he asked.

Judy looked at him in astonishment. “Yeah, have you met her?” Harry explained the circumstances in very few words without revealing too much of his past. She still looked very sympathetic. “I’m sorry, Mr. Potter, for the impression you got of us. You see, it isn’t usually this loud in here. Once a month the children are allowed a treat – a movie, a field trip or something else. It’s part of our philosophy that they decide amongst themselves what treat they’d like. The days before the decision are usually quite chaotic.” She took a breath. “The violence you used to see was probably due to the same reason. And maybe also the staff. And, of course, our glamours. Believe me, no child is abused here and violence is neither tolerated nor ignored.”, she sounded fierce.

Harry pursed his lips. “That still does not explain why you know my name.”, he said. Judy blushed. “Oh, of course. I figured you knew that this orphanage is special. Our inhabitants are young Muggles as well as witches and wizards. Our name is just a camouflage, you know. The grey exterior and entrance area as well. And partly, the noises, too. Follow me, please.

They went through a large door at the end of the hall and Harry blinked. A light lobby greeted him, decorated with many pictures and beautiful plants. The stairs were bright and the while the noises were still _there_ , they suddenly sounded much less hostile. The whole house suddenly seemed bright and inviting. It felt strangely homey. He stared at a smiling Judy.

“I know, it’s overwhelming for the first time. We have to be sure that only the right cases come into our care. The magical children are, obviously, all accepted immediately. The non-magical otherwise have to be tested. You see, our focus lies in healing them from magical damage. There are always accidents or terrible crime incidents on Muggles that cannot be undone easily. Some have suffered months or even years from magical abuse. Some have witnessed something so terrible that they have a permanent trauma so they cannot be obliviated – they would lose their minds. Others have been tortured. Left in the wrong hands, you raise people with terrible fear and hostile feelings towards magic. You need to take their hands and lead them into understanding.”, Judy explained.

“Here, we help magical and non-magical children to grow up in a healthy and honest environment but we have to protect them from outsiders. So we need strong repellent charms.”

“Are all of the children orphans?”, Harry asked. Judy shook her head. “About two-thirds. Some have still one or both parents left, but they cannot look after them anymore. You know what happened during the War….” Both of them looked down. “Others are Muggleborn witches or wizards or have Squibs for parents. They are here to learn about our world during daytime, sometimes just a few hours every week. Our staff is mostly non-magical; some Squibs or even partners or parents of magical people. At the moment, there are two only two witches working here and only one volunteer wizard. The rest knows but cannot do magic.” She smiled again and showed her remarkable even teeth.

“So you are a witch?” Judy confirmed that. “And you wanted to…what? I still don’t know why you invited me in. Not that I don’t appreciate talking to you.”, he added quickly when she sent him a rather displeased look. His comment seemed to amuse her.

“Don’t worry so much about etiquette, Mr. Potter. I’ve been told I have a comparably stern expression, but it has its perks when you want to educate children.” He had to chuckle at that. She was still to answer his question.

“When I saw you here I figured it would be good to not let you leave with a wrong impression. Also, since you ended the War that brought most of the children here, I think is necessary to show you exactly what you have done for the world.” When he frowned, she added. “You never seem too happy or even content whenever you are spotted. I know, it is probably very annoying to be molested by dumb admirers all the time, but you have an aura of indifference about you that always left me under the impression that you are as much a traumatized child as everyone else here. Except for the difference that your PTSD and your anxieties never got sorted. You are also showing severe signs of malnourishment and the lack of proper human contact and always have throughout the years. Don’t worry, it is not obvious at all.”, she reassured him when he stared at her, wide-eyed. “But for a professional trained in Human Psychology and Magical Healthcare the signs are unmistakable. Your story from before confirmed that impression even further. Naturally, I would react when given the chance.”

That woman was a professional; he had to give her that. She had seen right through him in less than thirty minutes and not given any indication of pity. Just empathy and well-behaved concern. Harry tried, and failed, to swallow the tight knot that seemed to fill his throat. Judy’s eyes searched his face. “If it is appropriate – Harry, can I hug you?” When he nodded, she slowed circled his body with her arms and held him. He didn’t cry, sob or have a breakdown, but he did take deep breaths to relax again.

After several moments, Judy released him. “I would like to propose something to you. I already know that you temporarily declined the Aurors and every other form of employment – a wise move given your situation, I assure you.”, she said. “But I think you should participate in some of our sessions and group therapies, as a volunteer as well as a patient. The children would greatly benefit from your presence and it might do you as much good to find your purpose in life once more in properly processing the War and everything related by joining us.”

“But – the public –“, he started. “- will not hear a single word of your presence here until you decide otherwise.”, Judy explained. “Of course it would indeed help us financially if your support for this place was a known cause, but I would never use you like that. And now you will go back home and return tomorrow for therapy, eight o’clock. I expect you to be punctual.” She gave him a lopsided smile.

They shook hands. “Come to room no. 238, it’s the fifth on the left side of the first floor. And don’t worry; many of our residents are teens as well. Our volunteer is even exactly your age.” Here, her eyes had a mysterious sparkle as if she was keeping information from him but he couldn’t bring himself to accumulate any of his former curiosity, so she went on. “You won’t stand out. Well, at least not age wise.”, she added thoughtfully.

When he got home, Harry felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders for at least one short evening. Usually, he would sit by himself and drink his way through a bottle of wine or some glasses of Firewhiskey, but today he felt like having a small dinner instead. He even managed to sleep peacefully for some short hours. Maybe Judy would be able to break through his apathy.


	3. The volunteer

Waking up at five in the morning by a nightmare wasn’t the best way to start a day, but it was a little superior to not sleeping at all, he decided. Today was different from other mornings: he had a plan and a purpose. If Kreacher had been overly surprised by his dinner the day before, it was nothing compared to his silent awe that his master asked him to serve breakfast today.

“I have an appointment at eight.”, Harry explained unnecessarily and added. “Some sort of mind-healing, you might say.” He was sure that if a houseelf could shrug, his would like to do exactly that now. “Whatever master deems wise.” When he turned, Harry thought he could hear mumbles about overdue treatment and oh-so-sensitive half-bloods.

He showered and dressed with greater care than he usually would have. Sure, he also was more considerate about his appearance whenever he visited Teddy, which was about once a week, but that was simply to keep Andromeda’s mind at rest. She was nervous enough as it was. Today, he _wanted_ to look – normal. Calm. Grown-up. Like someone who knew what to do with himself. Harry briefly wondered if he could ever be that person.

The orphanage looked just as uninviting and hostile as before, but he entered with determination nevertheless. Everything was still considerably quiet when he took the stairs up to the first floor. Room 238 was bright as day. The walls had a nice green-and-yellow colouring and reminded him of an apple ready for the bite. Lots of pictures decorated the walls – animals, flowers, landscapes. Magical windows showed a beautiful surrounding that looked like a mountain area in spring. The cushioned chairs were already set in a circle. In their midst, a wooden table offered different Warm and cold drinks, cookies and jelly babies, tissues, cuddly toys and tiny rubber balls. If he had to take a guess, he would judge Judy as a perfectionist. Everything in here soothed his nerves immediately.

His impression was undermined that very instant when the door opened and a tall figure entered alongside Judy and about a dozen children of different age. The very familiar white-blond hair and the pointy chin caught Harry as off guard as possible, so he the very first thing he said to his new therapy group was “Merlin’s soggy pants!”.

Some children gasped. Others chuckled. But a boy around maybe ten or eleven broke in a fit of laughter that soon infected the whole group. Even Draco’s lips curled in something that resembled a smile. Harry blushed furiously and apologized towards Judy. She shook her head. “Oh, don’t worry; swearing is luckily tolerated in this room. Everywhere else, I would have asked you to put either 4 Sickles or one Pound in our swear jar. Now everyone calm down. Even you, Adam.”, she told the curly haired boy that had started the guffaw. She gently padded Harry’s shoulder and introduced them. “Harry Potter, our newest therapy member and volunteer; Draco Malfoy, victim and enforced volunteer since nearly four months. I assume you know each other?”

Both Draco and Harry nodded. Harry couldn’t help but think that, whatever Malfoy did here, seemed to have helped him. He looked much better, healthier and pretty attractive. Just when the thought entered his mind, he was shocked. What had Roselyn asked him all those months before? He was probably really losing it now. He shook his head and tried to sort his thoughts. Malfoy wasn’t attractive!

“Good, than I hope that you’ll be both an exemplar of overcome disputes and sit down next to each other over there.” Judy gestured them away and everyone else found their seats. Harry leaned towards his former nemesis and whispered “What are you doing here?”

“Haven’t you guessed? Community service.”, Malfoy answered with a light hint of irony. “Worried that I’ll be here when you confess how truly mental you are?” Harry gritted his teeth but stayed silent. “Don’t worry; I’ve got my own share to unload. Who knows, maybe my madness is even worse than yours.”

Harry shook his head. “Seriously doubt it.” Malfoy – he should really start to call him Draco – grinned. “Scared of a little insanity competition, Potter?” Harry flinched and let his mind travel back to another time, another place, another innocent reality where everything had been so much clearer than now. “You wish.”

And that was that.


	4. Therapy

Harry had been accepted by everyone rather easily. The children were, of course, impressed, but not nosy or obtrusive. They didn’t ask meddlesome questions, they didn‘t want an autograph but simply accepted him as a participant of the War as much as everyone else had been. Their unfazed demeanour surprised him more than he would have imagined. After some short word of introduction, Judy let them speak about whatever they wanted to. Today’s topic was losses and how to deal with them. A small girl talked about her mother, who was still missing. Another one had lost her whole family but couldn’t remember anything. At the moment, the boy from before, Adam, told his story.

“So they just Disapparated after everything! No Dark Mark, no threats, no nothing, like it hadn’t even been worth the effort. And I couldn’t even move because of the sodding Body-Bind-Course! D’you know how much it sucks to watch helplessly when everything you love burns down and you can’t do a thing about it?”, Adam asked angrily. He was one of the “light cases”. He was Muggleborn and his parents had sent him to St. Mary’s after their village had been raided by Death Eaters to protect him. Since the end of War, he returned weekly to attend their sessions. He would start Hogwarts next year and his mum and dad wanted him to be as prepared as possible. Adam was the only one that had faced the non-serious damage of the War, so he was probably the least biased when it came to talking about it.

His last question had been directed towards Harry, who gulped. “Yes, I know how it feels.”, he muttered. Adam shot him a curious look, clearly surprised that he had been hit by anything. “How so?”

“I....I c-can’t...It was.” He stuttered and took a very deep breath. “Two times, maybe three. One, when I was spying on someone in the Hogwarts Express. They saw me, paralyzed me, broke my nose, covered me and left me there. A friend found me before something bad happened.”, he explained. From the corner of his eye, he saw Draco’s face twitch. Adam grinned. “Sounds rather funny to me. What were the other times?” He obviously expected something amusing. Harry shot a glance at Judy.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you’re not ready. But don’t hold back because you think we cannot bear with the story. Most here have faced enough gore and blood during the War to understand.”, she reassured.

So, the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice closed and opened his eyes and said “Well, when I was a baby and my parents were murdered, I was as good as paralyzed. I remember it, though, their cries and screams. When my godfather was killed, I had to watch the scene helplessly, too – I was in the middle of a fight, there was nothing I could do. And then there was an incident on the Astronomy Tower of Hogwarts.” His eyes found Draco’s, filled with anticipation and fear. “Professor Dumbledore and I came back from...a mission. He had...done something...that had left him weak. When we were caught, he was disarmed, but he used the split second the hex took to be spoken to Body-Bind me non-verbally. He didn’t defeat himself. I had to watch the Death Eaters enter and talk to him. The curse only ended when Dumbledore was dead and falling off the Tower.”

The room was filled with silence. Then, a girl around fourteen asked “Draco, didn’t you say something about Death Eaters in a Tower, too? Was that the same?” Her tone sounded accusing.

The pale face had a greyish colour. “I knew you were there.”, Draco mumbled but stayed silent otherwise. The girl spoke again. “Were you the one to kill Dumbledore, too, you coward?”, she spat. Judy blew a whistle. “That’s enough, Celeste, you know threatening and demeaning behaviour are not allowed in here. Nor is judgement. I won’t allow you to make any participant of the group session feel uncomfortable.”

“It’s ok, Judy.”, Draco mumbled. “She’s right. I-”

“But you had no choice. Your life and your parent’s lives were on edge. You didn’t want to do all you did...”, Harry heard himself interrupting. He mentally questioned his motives, then. Why would he get angry over such nonsense? The girl had accused Draco of something true. Draco had admitted this. He was an adult that could fight his own battles. Why would Harry need to help him. Why would he care? Yet again?

With Draco looking at him like he did right now, Harry’s thoughts were obviously right. This wasn’t his battle to fight. He wished he could leave his forward gab at home. “Sorry.”, he said.

“As I wanted to explicate before I was so unceremoniously interrupted”, Drace drawled, no in a much more distinguished manner than before. “- Celeste is right to accuse me of wrong behaviour in the past. But I have been sentenced and I will clear my debts, even though it might take a while to accomplish that task. I’m still ashamed and I’m still in regret, but I cannot dwell on my past faultings forever.”, he declared with what seemed to Harry like royal dignity.

The session went on. Harry didn’t feel like elaborating again and Judy did seem to understand this since she sidetracked all questions directed at him. All in all, he had liked the whole event, Harry decided when he prepared to leave. Before he could exist the building, though, Malfoy caught up with him.

“Potter”, he began and Harry immediately wanted to roll his eyes at the arrogance of tone. Some things never changed. “I’ll have you know that _nothing_ you learn about me in there can ever be public knowledge.”, he began, but Harry interrupted him.

“Malfoy, you prat, from the both of us, _you_ were the only one who sold _my_ secrets to the papers. You know what, I don’t even care. What else?”

The other boy – man? – sneered. ‘”Whatever. Just because we’re both here doesn’t make us friends. Or acquaintances. Or, really anything. Make sure to behave at least in a civil manner if you know what that is.”, he quipped and Harry took a deep breath, turned and left him on the spot. He didn’t even bother to say goodbye. When the blond called after him – “Potter, hey, who do you think you are?” – he shortly returned “Someone that doesn’t give a shit about your nonsense.” and went home.


	5. Christmas spirit

The following weeks and months weren’t bringing much alternation. His walks were just as quiet as before. Some houses were already decorated for Christmas – Harry was sure that The Burrow would be overfloating with a spirit of calm merriness by now. The Holidays were just around the corner, but Harry’s life dragged on like before. He had owl-ordered all the presents he needed, received and mostly thrown away most Christmas-Cards unopened (he wouldn’t risk being hexed, poisoned or worse, get sloshed with love potions) and went to visit Teddy as well as his therapy group.

These were the most exciting hours. He usually didn’t talk much, just gave few comments and stories when asked and was content in hearing other’s views on the War and its atrocities. Even that seemed to help. Malfoy – Draco! – astonished him, though. He behaved very mature and supportive towards the children the whole time. He even explained some things about the Death Eaters and their motives, about Pure-Blood upbringing and philosophy and the Dark Lord himself. From time to time, Harry felt taken aback by how much terror Voldemort had spread within his followers to confine their every thought.

Unfortunately, he was the exception from Malfoy’s empathy. Of course, most of the really important parts of his story remained unknown until present day and he didn’t bother to bring them up but it still gnawed his nerves whenever Malfoy treated him like he had always been a pampered little prince with a knack to attract attention and fame and whose whole life just evolved about him and his righteousness. Sometimes he wished he could hex the bastard and be done with it. Then again, Harry loved not getting special treatment. Their mutual dislike was the most honest behaviour he could ever receive from anyone in the Wizarding World.

They didn’t share any hostile words or even acknowledged each other much. Their whole communication was based on more or less polite ignorance, spiced with glares or subtle assumptions here and there. Nevertheless Harry found that he had accepted the git as a constant in his life that brought him a part of the normalcy he had longed for in the previous months. Also, it was nice to be neither worshipped nor warped into someone else – even though Malfoy – why couldn’t he call him Draco? – clearly still hated him. But he did hate Harry for himself, not the Saviour, the Hero, the Boy who lived. It was all but a cold comfort.

Still, why would it be him of all people to get through Harry’s barriers and why did Harry despise and enjoy this in equal measure? Was he that masochistic? What was wrong with him? Roselyn’s words from the trail crept into his mind again and again, like a song he wasn’t able to get out of his head and Harry seriously began to question himself. Why had he always watched Draco? Why had they always been at each other’s throats? Why had none of his relationships with girls worked out? And why wouldn’t his head stop asking him such questions?

The 23rd of December was the last day of group therapy before a short holiday break. Despite the cold, there was no snow. Their session was enriched with anticipation and, in some cases, a somewhat dulled Christmas spirit. Harry knew that Judy was very well aware of how much every orphan suffered on Christmas; she had told him as much in their frequent conversations. But she also was determined to remind everyone what they had gained and how grateful you had to be for life and that pain was part of being human as much as everything else. It nearly made him reconsider his own attitude. Only just.

At the end of the session, everyone not staying at St. Mary’s shared their plan for the holidays. Most included a calm time with their loved ones. Malfoy – Draco! – would spend time with his mother and visit his father in Azkaban. While saying so he looked at Harry as if daring him to say something off about this. Harry simply shrugged. If Malfoy expected him to treat him as badly as he would have in his position, he might as well screw himself until the twelfth of never.

Who knew – maybe the prat would really screw someone during the holidays. Unlike Harry, he might be having an existent romantic life, he thought bitterly. The next second, he shook his head at himself. Why would it be his business even if M – Draco did? It wasn’t like he cared. What a ridiculous thought!

He was so lost in his own mind that he flinched when Judy addressed him. “Harry! Harry, aren’t you listening? Charlie asked you a question.”

Charlie, well, Charlotte, really, was another orphan with Muggle parents. She was now fifteen and promised to become a beautiful young lady. Her mom and dad had died during an attack of Diagon Alley. She had refused to go to Hogwarts this year to grief in peace and would return one year late but she read and practised a lot. Harry liked her because she was very quiet but also profound in her way of thinking. She never giggled or went dramatic; she just expressed herself through few well-chosen statements. Charlie also reminded him of Luna quite a lot.

“Sorry, Charlie, I must’ve passed out for a moment. What was the question?”, he asked.

She showed a small grin. “I know the feeling. Well, will you spent the holidays with your Muggle family? Or with friends?” Harry tried not to gape at her. The Dursleys? Voluntarily? Then again, no one truly knew. There were suspicions, harmless compared to the reality, but he never let the public know about his Muggle past. “Erm….well, no. I don’t have much plans. That is to say, I’ll spend Boxing Day with my…well, my adopted family. The Weasleys, you know. And my godson, the day after.”

Charlotte frowned. “But, aren’t you going to see your relatives at all?” Her tone had just a hint of accusing and he felt a stab of anger through the mist of emptiness. “No.”, he simply answered and tried to ignore Draco’s sceptical look. Those silver eyes pierced him like he was a riddle to be solved. “And I don’t plan to. Ever again.”

She stuck to her gun, now with a fierce face. “Because they’re Muggles? Is that it? Harry Potter despises Muggles?” Before he was able to decide otherwise, Harry stood and went to the door. “Mind your own business, will you?!” But she wouldn’t. “I bet you’re ashamed of them for being so ordinary. I bet you think you’re too good for them.” He froze. “Yes, because it sure was _my fault_ that they behaved the way they did. Because all Muggles simply _must be_ nice and kind people. How could _they_ ever be mean or evil?” His voice dripped with sarcasm. She stared at him stubbornly.

Leaving, his passing words to her were “You have no idea what you’re talking about.” No ‘Merry Christmas’, no ‘Happy Holidays’ and no ‘Goodbye’ for anyone was left within him. He had left a huge package of presents with Judy earlier and decided that it was best if that would be his Farewell-Present to all of them.

The streets were buzzing with business as usually, but he was as secluded from everyone as could be. It had been a bad idea, he knew it; he shouldn’t ever have entered the orphanage. He should never have started that stupid therapy. Silly children with silly questions about things he barely faced himself outside his nightmares. Harry stood to rub his eyes. They were a little wet, too, but surely because of the cold drizzle. Not because of the pieces of memories that crept up his conscious. Fragments that show uncle Vernon screaming, Dudley with his fists up high, Petunia with a saucepan or the cupboard under the stairs.

_“Uncle Vernon, please, I’m so hungry. Please, it wasn’t me! Tomorrow’s a written test, I can’t concentrate without food. Please, just a piece of bread!” – “Shut it! You’ll get one before the test tomorrow. Can’t risk that freaky stomach of yours to disturb the good children! No prepare dinner and then back into your cupboard, boy!”_

_“You better cover those nasty spots on your arms and your neck. I don’t want any do-gooders or nosy teachers asking about them, understood? Well, not that anyone would believe you.” – “Yes, Aunt Petunia.”_

_“Freak! Want a little more?” – “No, please, Dudley.” – “Come on, I’m not doing anything. You’re hitting yourself.” – “Because you make me!” – “Why don’t you prove it?” – “I can’t! Please stop!” – “Told you so, freak!”_

From an extern point of view, Harry knew quite well that his relatives had shown him only an average treatment of domestic violence. He was not well-fed or looked after, but his injuries had never been really severe, his appearance had never been completely gaunt or starved and his clothes were at least not ragged or dirty. He knew of other stories, now. Children that were beaten to pulps, parents that more or less tortured their offspring and verbal abuse beyond anything he’d ever faced. Ignorance and maliciousness had been terrible to face growing up but not unbearable. Then why was he still dreaming of those events? And why did he still feel so much resent within?


	6. An unexpected encounter

Draco Malfoy hurried through the alley. He was hidden beneath a dark woolen cloak, wearing several layers of Glamours and Notice-Me-Not Charms. His movements were hushed and careful and his body never left the murky shadows of Knockturn Alley.

He had purchased all of his gifts in a Muggle neighborhood or Owl-Ordered them using a fake identity and one of his family’s hidden holiday houses. But this one… He would, of course, never buy his mother something Muggle for Christmas but stick to their tradition. There was one famous jeweler, rarely known by even most of the magic population, who had the most prestige clientele all over the world. Amongst them was even the Muggle royalty.

Since he had been able to spend his own money, maybe at eight, he had always gifted his mother with one of Mr. Ehzak’s creations. He was nervous that she might have to encounter a disappointment this year, though. What if he would be refused as a customer? It had happened before. What if he would have to pay double or triple the price for being served at all? That, also, would not be the first time.

Unfortunately, he could not afford pouring his money out. He had saved a little every month to be able to come here today. Never before Draco Malfoy had had to calculate his spending, but nowadays he was careful to consider the costs. He wanted their remaining money to stay in the vaults as long as possible. He did not know when or if he would ever be able to pursue a paid work.

Hence he and his mother had started to shed everything in their property that was simply producing costs instead of maintaining value. They had started to downgrade their meals from spectacular dinners to small family meals. Their wardrobes were not updated with every season anymore and, of course, investments in costly gadgets or events were absolutely beyond all question. Not that they had to maintain any social function anymore or were invited anyway. Draco could not claim that he missed the tedious gatherings at all, but he knew his mother had always enjoyed them very much. She had some friends she met with on a regular basis, yes. They were in France, mostly and some in Italy and Spain, but it was not the same.

He entered the unobtrusive shop quietly, trying not to draw attention should other customers be present. He had always admired the atmosphere. The dark room presented only a few pieces of finest jewellery, handmade and unique and not for sale in the entrance area of the shop. Everything else would be hand-picked by the owner. Never would a piece see the light of day before it was sold.

“Well, well, well – whom do we have here?”, a melodic voice asked from the background. “Cloaked and shy, standing around like an intruder would. What have we got to hide?”

Draco discarded his hood and looked into the owner’s eyes. “I see.”, he said dismissively. “A dark mark.”

“Please, sir -” Draco began but was interrupted by that sniding voice again. “I have been expecting you, Mr. Malfoy. Even after everything. War, humiliation and public expelling might humble a person but they never change the unfailing love for a mother, do they?” Was he mocking him? Or was he genuine? Mr. Ehzak’s voice had always had a derogatory tone. Draco couldn’t decide and built up the mask of indifference he had adopted since he was a child.

The blond stared but regained his composure. “No, sir. They don’t.”

“I thought so. And might I guess that, while you still are able to purchase one of my creations, this year’s expenses might be a little less...obtrusive?”, he went on. “Indeed.”, Draco admitted. “But I have been saving money through the last months.”

The old man nodded “I see.” and then he was quiet.

Desperation preyed on Draco’s mind despite all attempts to remain calm. “Please, sir, my mother was innocent in this war. She never had a mark, she did not fight, kill or torture and she never even openly supported any of this. It was merely her fault to be forced into circumstances she had no influence on.” Mr. Ehzak left eyebrow went up. “I know, it sounds like an excuse but she has not deserved to be treated like an outcast. Please, I want to be able to give her at least this.”, he finished and felt horrible.

His words were met with silence again as Mr. Ehzak had left the room. Draco heard noises from the back room and a muted “Ah, yes, there you are.” before the man returned with a small box.

“This particular piece might be exactly what you are looking for. Magical silver with white Moonstones and crystal black glass vitrified by dragon-fire. It contains three pieces of white Siberian Fairy diamonds and three pieces of enchanted black Aztec gold on each side. All the included materials contain not only magical but also protective qualities. And, naturally, they have been selected by me personally.” He opened the box.

A beautiful necklace was inside. It was not as extravagant or colourful as the pieces Narcissa had been presented with in the past but its filigree look and the design were simply exceptional. Delicate ornaments were woven into each other to meet in the middle, where they met to a wonderfully composed interwoven circle. The fact that it was completely black-and-white made it look even more elegant. “It is beautiful, indeed.”, Mr. Ehzak said when he saw Draco staring. “The stones are admittedly not very big and the piece itself is lighter than what you usually purchase but in my opinion, a piece that is purposed to be worn every day should never draw too much attention and never be too heavy.”

“I agree.”, Draco said in a grateful tone. “I would very much like to take it.”

“Excellent decision. That will be 300 galleons.”

Previous year, he had spent more than 800 and just as much – sometimes more – in the years before that. Otherwise, Narcissa had barely been able to wear all her jewelry even then when they still attended a multitude of parties and balls. Something for a daily use would be the much better decision for now and Draco was grateful that the old man did not tease or mock him further about his budget. It was still a lot and he could barely afford it but it was worth every single Knut. Even if he was nearly broke for now – or at least not able to buy more than the necessary.

He left the shop carefully and silently, heading directly for the next possible Floo to travel home. He was nearly there, nearly out of Knockturn Alley, when suddenly, he was disarmed. Then he felt a sharp sting and a painful cut in his back and fell down, face-first, on the ground. A merciless laugh sounded after him.

“So, Malfoy, have you done a little Christmas-Shopping? Dark Artefacts and Forbidden Potions?”, the voice asked. He knew the person but could not figure out who it was. “Leave me alone.”, he answered but stayed on the ground. Everything else would only trigger more violence, he knew that from experience. “I did nothing illegal or questionable.”

“Just some necessities then, I take it? Accio Malfoy’s purchases.”, the man called and Draco felt the small box leave his cloak. “No!”, he begged and tried to catch it on time but was sent back down with force. “Let’s see – my, oh my, such a nice thing we have here. You know, it is always so hard to find something nice for my fiancée, you know. She’s quite greedy. But, who knows, this might be something she likes. Or maybe I sell it. Seems a real waste for someone you would give it to, doesn’t it?”

Draco gritted his teeth. “I bought it from my own money, in a fair and honest transaction. Why would you think you could get away with thievery?”, he spat, trembling with anger. The other one simply laughed. “Oh, please, Malfoy, who would even believe you? You’re scum and no one from us would ever listen to you. And, even if, who would help a Death Eater? You’re a pathetic worm, a little arse-kissing nothing and no one care for your wimpy...”

“WILL YOU BLOODY SHUT UP ALREADY?!”, a voice roared. Another voice Draco knew but this time, he was able to recognize it. “Weasley?”

The other one did not even acknowledge him but went straight to the thief. “Accio Malfoy’s jewellery.” and the little box flew into his hand. “WEASLEY! What are you doing? I just took this, you arse.”

“Silencio.”, Ron Weasley said with a wave of his wand. “Petrificus totalus. Much better.”, he grinned when the other wizard fell to the ground, unmoving. Ron took Draco’s wand out of the other man’s hand. “Always hated the idiot. McLaggen, you should know him.”, he said and waited for Draco to get up.

“Thank you, Weasley. Yes, I know him. He was a keeper in the Gryffindor team?”, Draco answered, his voice a little teary. “Yeah. Bloody bastard, always bragging and stuff. He wasn’t even at the Battle back then, you know? You alright?”, he sent a sharp look. “You look a little...?”

“Terrible? Dirty? Angry?”, Draco spat. “No, I am fine. Technically, this is not far from the usual. At least he did not spit on me.” Ron frowned. “But I really feared he would take the necklace. It is for my mother and I cannot afford another. It was my last money for this month.”, he admitted. Why, however, he did not know.

The read-head shook his head and gave an unamused chuckle. “Never thought I’d hear you say something like that.”

Before Draco could say something offended or hurtful, he went on. “No offense, Malfoy. Just ol’ habit. Listen, you look crappy and I need a drink. You come with me to Grimelda’s Pub and take the Floo there afterwards. My treat.” He took him by the arm and dragged him along without much more preamble. Halfway on their way, he turned and lifted the Body-Bind-Curse from McLaggen, who unfroze cursing and screaming but left hem well alone. Only when they sat down in the dim light of the smoky tavern and were served their food and drinks, he talked again.

“Since when are you the generous kind, Weasley?”

The redhead smiled and stretched lazily. “Oh, I’m helping George with the shop now. He can’t run it alone and I’m quite good at funny stuff. Not as good as...Fred...was”, he hesitated “but decent enough and he pays me a fair share.” With a sigh, he ordered drinks and food.

“You seem rather worn out yourself. I thought it was only our side to grovel on the ground.”

“Yeah, no. I’ve been trying to buy new stuff for the shop recently. We need to expand our product lines and experiment a little here and there. But no one will bloody sell me anything.” His voice sounded even grumpier than before.

“Whatever could you need?”

“Oh, you know. Just some rare substances or materials of the” *cough* “grey-zoned area A little dubious origin or maybe a slightly dark back-ground is always nice as well. The pranking industry needs such things – we water them down until they’re harmless and make them funny.”

“But you do not find a supplier?”

“Bloody hell. ‘Oh, no, sir, we never sold something of the like.’ ‘What kind of shop do you think this is, sir?’ ‘We would never support such foul things’ and all that crap.”, he mocked in different disguise voices. “Bloody cowardly hypocrites. It’s like they fear I’ll take them to the Aurors or send Harry their way if they sell me anything.”

“Would you?”

“Of course not! I’m not a sneak and Harry’s got it bad enough already as it is without me sending him to anyone.”

“What do you mean, Weasley? Is the Golden Boy too busy signing autographs?”

Ron sent him a nasty look. “Listen, Malfoy, I don’t care what you think of him but he’s been through enough without your stupid bullshit. The guy suffers from bloody PTSD and you know it!”

Draco rolled his eyes. “What would I know? He never talks in therapy. And if, it is simply self-righteous whining.”

“Well, would you like to bloody talk if your family had abused you years and years? If you had been imprisoned in your house and played around with? Would you have liked to be sacrifices without ever being asked? Would you have like to have been all over the papers for killing someone?!” Weasley had talked himself into a rage and did not realize that he had given much more information than intended. “I wonder what they’d done to him if they’d ever found out he’s into blokes. Sodding bastards.”

When he finally did realized what he had just told Draco, he paled. “Bloody hell, I didn’t mean to say so much. Listen, Malfoy, you didn’t hear any of this, right? Harry’d kill me.”

The blond was silent and bit his lips. “Was is really that bad? His family?”, he asked, unsure for whether or not he would wanted to know. He had skipped they information that Potter was a homosexual. It was a very interesting fact, sure, but he did not want to focus on it now. “Worse.”, Weasly answered. “Second year, the twins and I had to save him. He had bars on his windows and was nearly starved.”

“Oh.”

In retrospective, the signs had been there all along. The small figure of The-Boy-Who-Lived, his shyness and awkward behaviour, his will to fight and to survive no matter the pain and his protectiveness of the few friends he had. Draco had simply been too occupied with his prejudices and himself to look properly. Potter’s past, with the War and the Dark Lord on top and the fact that basically everyone he loved had died away before he had even properly hit puberty were nicely completing the potpourri of misery that was the Golden Boy’s life. He should have seen.

After their meal, Draco again promised to never tell a living soul about Potter’s past and thanked Weasley for saving him and the lunch. He even managed some sort of short apology before he left for his flat. Thinking about the day’s revelations, he decided not to let Potter know how much information he had considering his past. If Potter had always been so interested in covering up his background story, he would not humiliate him by letting him know he was informed otherwise. Sleep evaded him again that night.


	7. Lonely holidays?

The 24th of December was so filled with memories and nightmares that Harry decided to give in. He knew what he had done last year and he knew what he would do this year once he realised that nothing else would reach his mind today. So he dragged himself out of bed, shoved down a half-hearted attempt of breakfast and went looking for books about flower arrangements in the Black library. “The Noble Art of Wizarding Flower Arrangements” was very old and seemingly very used – a good sign, Harry decided.

Most pages included not only detailed descriptions of the bouquet or wreath but also a list of what every single flower stands for and what kinds of flowers are best combined. Thinking of Hermione’s Christmas blossoms, he kept it simple. Lilies, of course, anemones and callas just in the combination the book proposed. It took him longer than expected – he never was a master at Charms but his experience with gardening was admittedly helpful...

_“Water and weed the flowers, boy! Don’t think I wouldn’t notice if there’s anything foul in between my rose bushes.” – “But the thorns...” – “Don’t be ridiculous, boy. Just watch where you move your fingers. I don’t want to hear any complaints.”_

Maybe he would have liked gardening. Maybe he would be good at it. He was a decent cook. Harry wondered if he should try working with plants – not the functional or magical ones, like Neville. Simple beautiful things would maybe help him cope with...whatever this was.

It was after tea-time before Harry managed to leave Grimmauld Place. The small chapel was still the same. The graveyard, too. He found them easily, this time. The flowers he and Hermione left here last year were gone and the stones looked empty and cold. “I should’ve come back earlier.”, he said. “I don’t know what’s happening. Nothing feels the same and I...” Why would he be ashamed in front of stones? “I’m like a brittle tree. It’s like something within died along with the Horcrux that night. I don’t feel anything anymore and I’d love to be happy. Or just content. But I don’t think there can be anything good in my life now that I’ve done my share, you know.”, he told the bright stones.

“No offense, mate, but sometimes you’re really thick like this.”

“Ron!” Hermione called and lifted their Disillusionment Charms. Harry simply stared at them.

“We...kind of expected you to come here.”, she explained, blushing. “And we wanted to be there for you, Harry. I know you don’t want us to pamper you but we’re so worried about you. Can we join you?”, Hermione sounded a little breathless, like she half-expected him to shout at her but Harry merely shrugged. They stood beside him, left and right – both his pillars in times of need and desperation as well as happiness. Ron was the first to talk.

“Well, Mr. and Mrs. Potter, I wasn’t here the last time and I still feel bloody wretched about it. But it’s been a phase and I was acting like a spoiled brat so now I’m making amends, right? Your son here, he’s quite brilliant when it comes to fighting and defending everyone else but he’s rotten about himself. You know, always feeling guilty, always making things hard for himself – you should think he’d spend the rest of his days in some nice hotel on an island or a castle or something, but no; he hides away and thinks he’s not worthy.”

“Ron –“ Harry tried to interrupt but the redhead went on.

“He deserves the bloody moon and everything below but he’s just not seeing it. Doesn’t even talk about and keeps us guys guessing about it like a bloody game of ‘Magical Detectives’. By the way, it’s always the creepy troll with the battle axe or the stolen wand.”, he told Harry, who couldn’t help but laugh a little at that.

Hermione sighed but her face had a small smile on it. “Well, whatever, Ronald – Mr. and Mrs. Potter, it’s been a year and your son has been so brave. I’m sure you already know that. We’ll make sure he’s alright again one day and we won’t dishonour your sacrifice to our world easily in letting him brew in his misery, I promise.” She shot Harry a stern look. “We’ll be working on his PTSD and his social anxieties and his self-esteem issues until he’s comfortable enough in his own skin to live his life. Starting after New Year’s Eve. And we won’t stop, no matter how much he cusses us or nags or complaints. Because we love him.” Ron nodded.

Harry shivered. The prospect of this revelation was both terrifying and wonderful. It was more than a little unnerving how much his friends seemingly had watched and discussed him. Then again, they had been looking after him, unbeknownst to Harry, even while taking care of Ron’s and Hermione’s family as well as their own traumata. The dark circles under their eyes and their way of clinging onto each other told that they, too, were still suffering. A feeling of guilt about them crept through the mist.

They stood silently next to each other. After a while, Hermione and Ron left, because they were invited to join the Granger’s on Christmas Eve Dinner. With a strong one-armed hug and a kiss on Harry’s cheek, they vanished.

He did stay a little longer with his parents, trying to sort his thoughts. Ron and Hermione knew about his sessions in St. Mary’s and the lack of information he usually shared. He hadn’t told them that he didn’t plan on returning – but Hermione knew how to read him quite well. Maybe she had guessed something?

When he returned home, he found that Kreacher had prepared a small meal that used to be tradition every year during the ‘Black Dynasty’. The elf had taken his liberty to decorate the house (alright, maybe Harry had mentioned that some people liked a holiday-spirited surrounding) and wore a toga with mistletoes and presents on it. When Harry told him how much the new look suited him, Kreacher grumbled something about nasty little Halfbloods and their love of humiliating poor servants.

When Christmas came, Harry was reminded a bit of his time with the Dursleys. He was on his own, with no one to wish a Happy Christmas and no one to share his impressions about his presents with. But, well, there was the difference: There were presents.

Lots and lots and even more of them – more than could ever fit on the foot of a bed. Not only the Weasleys, the Grangers, Neville, Luna and Minerva had sent him something, several employees of the Ministry (including the Minister himself) and Hogwarts added to the pile. Even Dedalus Diggle and Elphias Dodge were amongst his donors. Even random witches and wizards had obviously wanted him to feel appreciated by sending one. It was slightly overwhelming, a little intimidating and, truth to be told, rather lonely. It took him hours to go through all the parcels and some gifts, like fantastic foreign chocolates or truly impressive cookies would have been lovely to share. He would store them for tomorrow and the day after.

Judy had sent him a gift, too – a small photograph of him with the children of St. Mary’s along with many sweets and a letter of apology that made clear that she wasn’t at all happy with the way Charlie had interrogated him and his reactions as well. She really was a straight-to-business person, even on Christmas.

Harry decided to take his breakfast for lunch since it was so late already and his less-than-happy houseelf made him promise that he would at least enjoy a feast tonight, the way it was supposed to be in a Black household on Christmas Day. He wandered around aimlessly through the streets like he always did when there was nothing else to do and watched families celebrate, eat or, in several cases, fight. When he reached a small cinema that showed classics, Harry decided without much thought and bought a ticket for _It’s a Wonderful Life_. Entering the already dark auditorium, he didn’t see much – only that there were just few people in here; ten, maybe twelve. He had not expected to identify that much with the movie: a man wishing to never have been born and a detailed show of what would’ve happened if he hadn’t.

Considering the question for himself, Harry decided: not much, probably. Neville would have been there to fight his battles. He would have become friends, maybe best friends, with Ron and Hermione. The Dursleys would live their ordinary lives. Maybe Gryffindor would not have won the Quidditch House Cup. But everything else that had happened, Harry decided, had been rather independent from his person. He was a symbol, a puppet and others had always pulled the strings.

The happy ending didn’t give Harry any sort of catharsis; he still dwelled in his own world. A voice interrupted his thoughts. “Can’t figure out how to leave the place, Potter? Wouldn’t have judged you of all people as a classic fan.”

Draco Malfoy stood there, right before him and looked utterly out-of-place in an old Muggle Cinema. Harry was so shocked to see the blond here that he told him exactly that. The other man laughed. “I know. You would not expect how many Purebloods have found their very own loopholes into the rabbit warren that is the Muggle World. They do have impressive ways of entertainment and certain appeals when it comes to gadgetry, I must admit.” Harry stared. “Oh, sweet Salazar, Potter, move already, will you? Since the both of us happen to be here at this exact moment we might as well leave together. I promise I won’t force you under a mistletoe.” He stated this smugly but a very fine layer of blush coloured his cheeks. Harry bit his lip.

“Since when are you being nice to me?”, Harry asked while he finally rose from his seat. “You were never interested in spending time with me.” M – Draco shifted his head. “Indeed, though not quite correct. I was very interested in offering you my friendship back in first year, which you so rudely declined.”

“You behaved like a prat. You shoved your wealth and daddies’ influence under everyone’s nose and you talked rubbish about my friends.” Draco’s eyebrows shot upwards at this forwardness. “And you reminded me of my cousin. Not quite an ice-breaking start of a relationship, I think.” They left the theatre together.

Draco mused about the last statement. “I see. Well, naturally, I was just a child with...wrongly adapted ideals and few manners concerning my treatment of – in lack of a better word – lesser parties.” His statement caught Harry by surprise. His former nemesis rolled his eyes. “I know, but contrary to your opinion I’m absolutely capable in recognizing my own mistakes. I might not like to do so, but I’m not that un-reflexive.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”, Harry murmured. “What are you doing here, though? Aren’t you with your parents? It’s Christmas.”, he added unnecessarily. Draco pursed his lips. “The Manor does not feel like home anymore. I do not intend to sit through a formal dinner while expecting the Dark Lord to appear every other minute.” He exhaled with force. “Mother and I spent the morning, we visited father and then I decided it was time to be alone for a while. The Holidays are not what they used to be any more.”

“Yeah, I know.”, Harry agreed. “Still doesn’t explain you keeping me company. No offense, but I had the impression that you still hated me. Very much so.” Another sigh. “You really show no mercy on your victims, do you?”, Draco asked and Harry frowned.

“Alright, let’s say that your performance on Wednesday made me a little curious. I know that you’re quite the Muggle-lover. And I’m well aware that you value family – your friends are closer to you than some parents are in Pureblood families. So I came to the conclusion that your Muggle family must have been...well, different. Contrary to my belief that you were raised as much a pampered heir as I, I decided to doubt my own conclusion about your past and your character and...make a new start. That is to say, if you’d be forthcoming enough to allow me to do so, Potter.” He looked at Harry in somewhat fearful expectancy and held out his hand.

Before he knew, Harry shrugged and shook Draco’s hand. “It’s Harry. Every time you call me Potter, you owe me one lunch. Same goes the other way round.” Draco grinned. “Meaning?”

“Come on, Malfoy!”

“Ha! See, that wasn’t so bad. I’ll be generous and allow you to invite me to a Christmas Dinner.”

“You manipulative bastard!”

“Tsk, such nasty words from my host.”

“Fine, but I really wonder what my houseelf is going to say that a Pureblood descendent of the noble Black family joins our Christmas Dinner...”

Kreacher fainted.


	8. Drunk stories

When the houseelf was recovered enough to stand on his own again, he bowed once more and disappeared into the kitchen; probably to increase the dinner from a serving for two (which was ridiculous since Harry didn’t even eat for one) to a serving for ten. Draco looked around and seemed to feel quite at home. Harry shook his head. He had brought a Pureblood Slytherin into one of the oldest Houses of Slytherins – of course he would be welcomed by the ancient building of his ancestors.

“It looks much better than it did before.”, he stated when Harry gave him the grand tour. “I have only dulled memories of this place and my great-aunt. But I remember how ugly I found the interior.”

“Yeah, it was pretty terrible when I inherited it.”, Harry told him. “It took us months to make the place livable in the first place and then again to even remove the furniture and ugly tapestries. I sometimes felt like the house fought me on purpose.”

“Makes sense.”, Draco interrupted. “Ancient houses are far better protected against changes and redecoration since most assets are very old and valuable. Where did you put the ones from here?”

“Ah…most of them were stolen years ago when it was still the Headquarter of the Order of the Phoenix. Other things are still in use. Some are in the museum that’s called Kreacher’s room. A few are in the vault at Gringott’s.”, he summarized. Draco chuckled. “Of course. No reason for the real estate to fight its new owner at all.”

“Where do you live now? I thought you’d gone back to the Manor but you said yourself that you only visit from time to time. Where’s your new place?”

A sly grin formed on the blonde’s face. “Why, Potter, do you plan on paying me nightly visits?”

Harry blushed furiously but couldn’t help to make a triumphal sound. “Ha! You said Potter, now you owe me one lunch. And don’t think I’ll settle for the Leaky. So, where do you live?”

Draco sighed. “Small flat in a more or less shady part of the city. Since so much of our property was confiscated or frozen, there’s only little gold left. So, yeah, it’s going to be the Leaky or nothing, I fear.”, he admitted in a low voice but not without an amount of annoyed dignity.

Harry swallowed. “Oh. Sorry, I didn’t think of that. Don’t worry, poverty or, well a modest environment are nothing to be ashamed of. Believe me, I know.” And with that rather obscure statement and Draco’s questioning stare, their conversation was over because they were called for dinner.

“Fifteen courses!”, Harry moaned afterwards. He had barely eaten and still felt too stuffed to function. “Who would serve fifteen different course of food? Who would cook and bake as much? Why would anyone feel that stuffed?”, he whined and tried to move from the couch as he accepted another glass of wine from Draco – without any success. Maybe that was party the fault of the alcohol. Kreacher had served them a different (alcoholic) beverage to every course. “That’s it; I’m officially too filled to function anymore.” His gaze fell towards Draco. “How can you still sit upright? You ate just as much as I did!”

The other one grinned and waved his hand. “Please. I’m used to that kind of bingeing. It’s standard in Pureblood societies to feast exorbitantly.”

Harry shook his head. “I don’t believe you. You’re thin as a twig. There’s no way you eat that much on a regular basis.”

“Why thank you, but it is all a question of restraint and exercise on every other day of the year.”, Draco said with pride and pointed towards Harry. “Considering you are as scrawnier than ever, you should know that.”

Harry blushed. He knew he had looked better, healthier at a time but he feeding himself was still not his strong suit. Eating still felt forced and unnatural to him, his stomach couldn’t be bothered with too much and he never actually _felt_ that hungry anymore. Maybe, one day, he would enjoy food once more. At the moment, he just felt sick at the very thought of a whole meal.

He tried to dismiss Draco’s statement as casually as possible. “Yeah, no. I’m really bad at gaining weight. Mostly I just forget to eat and then I don’t think I can ever catch up all the lost meals at the Dursleys.”, he said without much thought. He was very aware that he technically did not want to talk about them, much less in front of Draco, but his mind was swimming in a mist of repletion and drunkenness. No matter what the remains of his consciousness yelled from far behind in his head, his mouth kept blabbering when Draco raised his brown in a questioning manner.

“You know, they nearly starved me regularly. I had to do all those chores in their house and the garden and if I did badly or too few, I wouldn’t get food. Or only a bit. They never let me come to any real harm or danger – the neighbours would’ve seen that – but it was enough to never really grow. And that made me look super-ridiculous in my cousin’s old clothes. He was, like, three times my size. But it was good on the other hand, so I fitted better into the cupboard under the stairs.”

Draco’s eyebrows were up high in shock. “Wait, why would you want to fit in a cupboard?”

The alcohol had clearly knocked out his brain. Without really meaning to, Harry told Draco bits and short stories of his experience of living with the Dursleys. Some things were even unfamiliar to Ron and Hermione and he knew he shouldn’t keep on talking. But he did. It wasn’t everything, it wasn’t detailed but when late evening came, Draco had gotten a short insight. Harry knew he would hate himself in the morning for being open enough to say even that little bit about the past that tormented him yet enough every night in his sleep, but his befuddled mind didn’t care about that now. The blond had gone silent long ago, his face deep and fathomless but his brows were contracted.

“And the worst is that Dumbledore knew about them all along and didn’t do a thing about it. He lectured them once when I was sixteen and that was it. He kept on saying that it was important for me to return because of the blood wards but I don’t know...sometimes it still pisses me off.”, Harry finished and finally realized how much he had just spoken. His face burnt in shame. “Draco, I’m sorry.”, he said. “Didn’t mean to unload like this. Shit, please forget about all of it. I didn’t mean to -”, he apologized and Draco awoke from his petrifaction.

“Forget?”, he asked incredulously. “You’re sorry? P-Harry, are you mental? This is...I cannot even rudimentary express how concerning this whole story is. Had I known...”, he trailed off and started anew. “This is a scandal!”

Draco suddenly stood and paced the room. “Every wizard on the planet would have taken you in, hosted and loved and adored you in every way had they been given the chance. Dumbledore did not put you in that house to protect you but to prepare you to be willing to make every sacrifice when he snipped his fingers! That man ensured that you would love the Wizarding world with such desperation that you would give anything to protect it, didn’t he? Maybe he even loved you, too, I wouldn’t know; but that makes his exploitation even graver!” He was so outraged that he started pulling on his blond hair.

His behaviour confused Harry. “Why would you throw a tantrum like about it? I don’t see the point in going overboard on something that’s in the past.” A strange thing appeared in Harry’s insides: He felt something. Whatever it was; a nagging impression of being understood and protected, something oddly warm that made its way up his chest.

Draco stopped dead in his tracks. It seemed like he regretted the sudden outburst of emotion now and Harry found himself wishing to not have interrupted him. It had been nice to see the person behind the mask had so much passion. “I apologize.”, Draco said and took a seat in the nearest armchair. “I think the alcohol finally made its way into my system. I shall leave now.”

“But, but...” Harry started and didn’t know how to finish. They had been talking nicely and he had destroyed the mood with his stupidity. “You don’t...I mean, you could always...” but Draco interrupted him and came a little closer. Not close enough to actually break into his personal sphere but closer than friends, or at least male friends, usually would. He lightly touched Harry’s shoulder that that seemed enough to drive his newly arosen feelings insane with – what _was_ that?

“How about this: You come to visit _me_ on New Year’s Eve. We drink, we talk, we won’t be each alone. Sounds alright?” His muted way of talking was almost gentle in Harry’s ears and he a treacherous blush creep up his cheeks. “Yeah”, he agreed hoarsely “Sounds fine. Sorry about that shitty stuff from before. Didn’t mean to creep you out.” Draco simply shook his head as if to signal that he didn’t bother at all.

“I’m going to see you out of your clo – out of the door.”, Harry caught himself. What was it with him today? Draco sent him a small smile that looked nearly like he knew what Harry originally had meant to say – Merlin, no! – and they parted with a firm handshake.

“Goodbye, Harry. And happy Christmas. Thanks for the dinner.”, he whispered with a pretty seductive wink. Harry was alone. Drunk, mortified, aroused beyond his own belief – which he hadn’t been in months! – fed to the hilt and confused about everything that he ever might or might not have thought concerning a certain blond. He was in dire need of a cold shower, he decided, before he could question his suddenly erupting emotions. Where had they been all those months? And why were they surfacing just now?


	9. Same procedure as every...wait, what?

Boxing Day at the Burrow was loud. Even though the grief about Fred’s untimely death was everywhere around, you simply cannot force a general silence on eleven people. Much less when one of them was a very pregnant part-Veela who wasn’t allowed to move but a single finger herself and complained loudly about it. Later, when Andromeda and Teddy joined them, the noise grew even more – mainly because everyone fussed over the charming toddler.

After a spectacular dinner during which he tried (and failed) to eat at least half of his plate, Harry found himself wishing for the solitude of his home, but he had agreed to stay at least until after midnight to escort Bill and Fleur home safely. So he took a step outside into the garden and tried to even his breathing. Those panic attacks had haunted him several times now and Judy had given him some essential clues on how to deal with them but today, with Fred’s absence and Teddy looking and behaving so much like his mother, something intense had been triggered. Why were there so many feelings inside him and why did they come out now? He was kneeling on the cold and frozen grass when he heard voices.

“Harry! Hey, buddy, are you ok?” – “Come on, lad, breathe. Join me, alright? In and out, nice and easy. Come on.” It was George’s even demonstration and the way he held his shoulders upright that did the trick. They breathed together for minutes and after some more had passed, he was able to see again.

“Panic attack?”, George finally asked with a sad smile. Harry nodded. “Yeah, I get them too. Once in a while, everything shuts down and I don’t remember how to get air into my lungs. Rather unpleasant thing, y’know.” Harry nodded again. “Sorry.”, he croaked. “It was a bit much. Teddy, Tonks and...Fred.”, he finished lamely. But Charlie patted his back. “I know. It’s the same for all of us. Whenever we look at George we’re reminded of what’s missing. Hard to talk about it.”

“But necessary.”, George assured and continued with a small voice. “Believe me, I’m still having a hard time looking into the mirror. Ron had to coax howling me out of the loo the other day.”

Harry looked into his untypically sad eyes. “Really? I’m so sorry.” George shrugged. “We all cope. More or less.”

“Less, in your case.”, Charlie added with a stern expression. “Why won’t you?” Harry shifted uncomfortably. “Dunno. Don’t feel, much. It’s a bit foggy in here.” He gestured towards his head. “Whenever I try to, well, to not feel nothing, everything’s spinning and I become a pathetic bundle of sobs.”

“Yeah, I was the same in the beginning. You gotta let it out somehow or it’s gonna find its way out when you least need it.”, George advised and Charlie nodded. “I had my special moment in bed with Ciprian shortly after I returned to Romania. Really romantic night. Candles, wine, dragons and just while we.... _you know_...I completely broke down. A pathetically whining dragon tamer. Thank Merlin he was considerate about it.”

Harry coughed. “He? Merlin, I didn’t know...”

“ – that I was gay?”

“...that you had a boyfriend.”, he finished lamely. “I always thought your greatest love was dragons and not humans.”

Charlie laughed a little. “Well, sue me, I’m a late bloomer. Thought I was asexual all those years before he came along.”

“Not that that’s bad.”, George jumped in with a meaningful looks towards Harry. “We tolerate every form of love or non-love here.”

Did he really think...? Well, sure, Harry didn’t have a lot of experience. Next to none, to be honest. And he had never felt like changing that. He hadn’t even considered the possibility of liking boys or girls or perhaps both. But it didn’t mean he wasn’t interested at all, did it? Of course he had appreciated looks of other boys during their showers in the locker room. But surely two guys together were...wrong? Well, the Dursleys had thought so. But when had they ever been right? He had seen how beautiful some girls were and how nice their skin was. He also remembered that, back in Muggle school, their teachers had told them a lot about sex between a man and a woman and how birth control worked. But how was it in the magical world? And how did two guys...? And how...?

“Harry, breathe, you got another attack coming there.”, George said. “What’s going on behind the lightening?”

“I have no idea!”, Harry exclaimed. “I know from Muggle school how things work with normal sex with what about prevention? Are there magical condoms? Are there diseases? And I have next to no idea what two guys would ever...And how...?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, full stop, mate. Weren’t you sex educated?”, Charlie asked – choosing to completely ignore the fact that Harry had expressed his desire to learn about gay sex – and Harry shot him an annoyed look. “By whom? The Dursleys? Dumbledore?”

George sent him an apologetic smile. “We always figured Sirius would maybe...” Harry shook his head. “Or maybe Remus.” Another negation. Charlie and George turned towards each other in a mock ceremonial manner. “Well, I guess it’s time for us to pass you the ultimate knowledge of pleasure shared by generations of Weasley men.” Harry already dreaded whatever would follow that statement.

“First of all, young lad, there’s no such thing as _normal_ sex...” And suddenly, the evening turned really, really bizarre.

It didn’t take more than an hour for Charlie and George to take their rather embarrassed pupil on an excursion through nearly all kinds of sexual varieties and kinks. Halfway through, George transformed two frozen leafs into quill and paper and wrote down all essential spells and potions and where to order them, along with toys and other things. Harry tried to leave on several occasions but was always held back by four arms. He felt dizzy. And, unfortunately, kind of a bit horny – not that anyone could tell with all the layers of clothing that covered his ‘situation’.

“The most important thing” Charlie was saying “is that you learn to talk openly about what you want and what not. That starts with naming things as they are.” Harry blushed at the very thought. This was clearly not what he wanted to be taught about. Shouldn’t...couldn’t things go...quietly? George grinned as if being able to read his thoughts.

“Come on, it’s kind of impossible to understand things like ‘Baby, I want you to do the thing with your willy again’ “ – Blood flooded Harry’s face with immense speed – “or ‘Do you mind to put your finger there – but not really there, just a little, no left...no, wait...’.”

Charlie tried, and failed, to stifle his laughter when Harry’s face burned again and he hid it in his hands. “Alright, buddy. We’re going to practice. Right now. Repeat after me: Dick.” Horror. This was horror.

The black haired boy looked around. “No! Are you serious?”

“Of course. Just do it. We’ll annoy you until you do anyway.” George already started to nudge his shoulder. “Come on, come on, little delicate flower. Say the nasty word. Dick. Dick. DICK. DICK!!!!”

“Fine! Just shut it, for Merlin’s sake. D-dick.” George applauded him. Charlie rolled his eyes.

“Now: Penis.”

“Please, no. P-P-Penis.”

“Ass.” – “Ass!” That had been easy.

“Arse.”, George grinned. “Arsehole”, Harry countered.

“Guys, seriously. Go on, Harry: Anus.” – “Anus?”

They went on through cock, nipple, hole, vagina, fanny, fuck, sex, pound, drill, balls, pucker, blowjob, eat out, rim and fingering before they started with sentences. Just when Harry thought his life couldn’t get more obscure while he said “I need your cock in me.” into the winter night, an honest “No thanks.” made him miserable on a whole new level.

Ron stood next to them in the garden, looking both a little shocked and very smug. “I take it you gave him some sort of sex ed?”, he asked George, who shrugged. “More or less. Yours had far more details, Ronnykins.”

Harry’s best friend raised his eyebrows and told him: “Believe me, you’re lucky. I’m still having nightmares about the whole thing. So,” he went on. “Everything figured out now?”

Harry shrugged. “I guess. Can’t tell you, really.” He blushed again but Ron clapped his back. “Don’t be daft; you never had the time for any bloody fun, did you? Chang was just a disaster – her fault, man, not yours – and Ginny, well, you weren’t meant for each other, were you?” His easiness always stunned Harry, but of course, he had at least one gay brother and a very tolerant family on all levels. And his’ and Ginny’s separation had been amicable. Since he had not shown any other love interests, Ron knew that he had never cheated on his sister or left her for another bird. So, his reaction towards the development of a possible sex life of his friend was as relaxed as could be.

Yeah, that much he had figured out by now. Then why had it been with Draco of all people that he had felt something nice again? And what would it be like to really feel something for real once more? Could he actually face the mess inside him?

They went back inside. Ron had originally been sent out to ask them if they wanted some punch or eggnog. George opted for Firewhiskey. Harry stayed sober for Bill’s and Fleur’s sake. Also, he didn’t know when the predicted breakdown might come (he expected soon since his suppressed emotions were obviously fighting their way back up lately) and tonight would be rather unwelcome.

At one in the morning, when Bill started singing Celestina Warbeck along with Ron and George, Fleur decided that she needed to get home and Harry Apparated them safely to Shell Cottage. Grimmauld Place seemed so empty and quiet suddenly that he wondered why he had never realised this before.

But it was good to be on his own, because he would finally be able to investigate a few things he had wondered about for the past few hours now. Masturbation had once been nice and useful for falling asleep before, but ever since their run last year – the constant danger, the terror and torture, the cold and the hunger, his sexuality had gone into hibernation. He had tried to do himself a few times but it never really reached a point of true arousal, so he had given up to wait for a better time. Tonight, with all the fresh images and ideas in his mind, might be the night.

Under the hot spray of his shower, he decided to let his fingers wander a bit. Up and down the crack of his arse they slowly felt their way down and before he knew it, he cast the cleaning spell George had told him about. It felt tingly and slightly uncomfortable. He moved his finger along his butt again and, with the help of a little shower gel, inside. Harry stopped. Whoa. It felt wrong. Foreign. Intense. Heat was pooling in his groin and his erection was suddenly filled with readiness. He felt awake. His finger went a little further inside. That stung a bit so he used more gel and tried harder.

“Oh.”, he hissed. “Oh Merlin.” In and out until the whole index finger was able to disappear inside. Then he started wiggling it. It hurt but not nearly enough to make him stop. Harry took his hard prick into his other hand and started stroking, which efficiently helped him ignoring the burning caused by his makeshift-lubricant. It was still great to do it. The hot drops of water felt cool now while he brought himself to a place he had nearly forgotten about. His skin prickled. Harry wished he had more hands to caress his head, his chest and his sensitive balls. Breathing was a chore now; his whole system seemed out of oxygen. He wished he could’ve done this much sooner! This felt liberating.

Inserting a second finger turned out to be logistically challenging. He had to let go of his aching member and squish more gel into his hand. Then back inside with painful force. Rubbing himself helped Harry relax enough to finally put two of his fingers into himself and it stung just as much; no, even more than before. He shuddered, bit his lip and went on. Hopefully his backside would forgive him the use of shower gel instead of a nice oil or something. He closed his eyes, imagining another man would do this to him. In and out, pumping him, kissing him, feeling him, when suddenly –

“Ah! Oh yes! Ah, Merlin – FUCK!”, Harry shouted. His fingers had found and pressed the edge of a tiny little numb inside him. His entrance protested painfully when he pressed deeper and harder but the feeling inside was bliss. It was his overwhelming undoing. He squirted onto the shower walls, as hard and fast as his strokes while he came longer than he ever had before. He felt so spent that he had to lean against the shower walls. His arse hurt and felt terribly sore, much more than he had expected. He sighed and went to dry himself. When the towel came across his entrance, he winced. It was a little bloody, even. That was unfortunate, but he had long ago accepted that pain was part of his life anyways. His sex life was quite obviously no exception.

That night, falling asleep was easier. The nightmares were terrible as always but they came later than usual. All in all, he got more sleep than in the previous weeks. The next morning, he wondered what to make of his new revelations. In less than five days, he would meet Draco again. Draco, whom he might fancy a little bit. Draco, who might not even be interested in guys. Draco, who was almost certainly much more experienced and confidant than him (who wasn’t?). Harry was close to being nervous when he realized that no matter what he thought now, it wouldn’t do him any good to assume anything he didn’t know for sure. He knew he might be rubbish in bed. Maybe he was trusting in Draco’s personal change too easily and his heart would be cruelly broken. However their meeting might develop (or not), Harry decided he would take whatever he could gain from it.


	10. What we feel makes us who we are

Ron and Hermione visited him in the early afternoon of the 30th of December. His limping had fortunately disappeared by then and he had not tried again to test his anal accommodation capacity.

If his best friends were surprised by his non-depressed mood, they didn’t show. But when they had sat down on the couch and armchairs, Hermione asked: “Harry, have you been thinking about how to go about your PTSD? I know those group meeting with Judy weren’t that successful but they were a good start. Did you reconsider your attitude?” He had confessed his latest outburst and his desire to never return on Boxing Day and while they seemed to understand his motives, Ron and Hermione had warned him not to end things hastily. He had even mentioned Draco’s presence to them some times –not that they had reacted much to that except for concern about their ability to overlook their pasts – but neither Ron nor Hermione knew about their encounter on Christmas Day. And whatever doubts and thoughts might have arisen within him.

Harry stayed hesitant. “I don’t know, Hermione. I don’t really see the point.” Ron interjected rolling his eyes. “Mate, if you keep your bloody mouth shut all the time there sure won’t be any progress. A little talking might help with the whole ‘talking-things-through’. If you act like a flubberworm, people will treat you like one. I don’t take it you like greens stuffed down your throat.”

Harry simply pursed his lips but Hermione seemed annoyed. “Ron, don’t be rude!”. Her boyfriend simply shrugged. “Don’t kill the messenger.”

He promised to think again about really wanting to leave Judy and St. Mary’s behind – when Hermione threatened that they would start a group therapy session on their own including all the Weasley’s and all of their friends, he found himself faced with a real incentive to do so.

His thoughts kept him occupied long enough until the late evening before he realized that tomorrow would be the day where he’d meet Draco again and...well, what would they be doing? Talk? Drink? Hug at midnight? Or – Harry didn’t dare to think about it – kiss? His imagination went further went he tried to picture how soft the blond hair would feel in his fingers or how the porcelain skin of Draco’s neck might smell or...Harry looked down. He was hard again. It felt odd, unusual – but he was an 18-year-old boy with nearly no sexual experience. Wasn’t this...normal?

He decided to try another spell George had told him about this time. “ _Lubrico_ ”, he whispered in the dark and his hand filled with a clean, slightly oily substance. His finger found his way down to his crack once again and was inside him before he had made the conscious thought to do so. It hurt again, but less than with the shower gel. “Yes”, he tried to talk to his imaginary lover. “Touch me. I want to feel you in my...arse.” No, that didn’t feel right. It was embarrassing. “I want to feel your fingers.” A little better, more like himself. His one finger became two, Goosebumps crawled over his skin at the stinging on his rim but – “Oh, yes keep going” – he found the little numb again. He wasn’t trying to press on it further; it was too painful to keep going like that. Simple wanking was easier than tormenting that poor ring of muscle any further and he most certainly didn’t want to limp tomorrow. Maybe some arses weren’t meant to be taken?

It would be incredibly sad, of course, but when had life ever been fair to him? He would have to make do with what was possible. But what kind of partner would tolerate that sort of behaviour? Anyone would give up on him after a while and probably break his heart on the way out. Coping with a moody and depressed four-eyes was one thing, that guy being sexually handicapped as a plus – who would want that? Maybe the Dursley’s had been right to call him a freak, Harry thought. Maybe he better gave up on dating altogether before losing his heart on someone who would return it to him in pieces.

“You seem rather moody today, P- Harry.”, Draco greeted him the next day. “Was Christmas with the readheads a little too much?”, he smirked.

“Nah. T’was a lot but not too much. Sorry, I’m a little tired lately.”, Harry answered.

“Join the club.”, Draco replied and lead Harry into his flat. It was the most sophisticatedly decorated thing he had ever seen. “I certainly cannot remember when was the last time I happened to sleep a whole night. But Dreamless Sleep is unfortunately not an option in the long run.”

“Shame. I got addicted around September.”, Harry admitted. “You?”

Draco let out an unamused chuckle.“Please, P-Harry.” Harry had to smile at his attempts to cover his inability to call him by his forename. “Last December, probably. My very own nightmare walked through my house.”, he added when Harry’s eyebrows rose.

“Yeah. I can imagine that was quite a setback on your sleep. The cold and hunger in the tent did about the same to me. And the hunt of Horcruxes. And the fear for my life, probably.” Harry told him and Draco nodded with nonchalance when he sat down in a very comfortable armchair. “Wow, you really know how to make a ‘shady’ place look great. The furniture is really...well-arranged?”

Draco had to suppress his sneer, Harry could tell. Instead, he laughed. “P-Harry, dammit! I might not have a lot of gold left but our Manor had so many leftover pieces that I could have equipped a row of houses. But, thanks, I know how to make myself comfortable. Even without an interior designer.”, he teased and The-Boy-Who-Lived blushed.

“Well, I never lived in a nice room before Hogwarts.”, he murmured defensively and looked down to the floor.

Draco shook his head. “I didn’t mean anything mean by it, forgive me. Those relatives of yours really were not nice people, I guess?” He came closer and offered his hand. “Come on, I prepared dinner. Or, well, the house-elves of the Manor did but it still counts. I put a heating charm on it.”, he joked and Harry led himself be led into the small kitchen.

They ate in silence – though Harry’s silence was more due to his awe at the exclusive meal. He had never had tasted so refined food: sea shells and caviar, lobster, oysters and several other things that Harry only knew from documentaries. “My family had always been fond of seafood.”, Draco explained. “It’s one of the healthiest ways to keep slim throughout the aging process.”

If Draco was mad about Harry’s eating habits, he didn’t show. The remaining food always disappeared from his plate without any comment and his portions came in very small sizes from the beginning. After dessert – “Liddy’s famous Mousse au chocolat” – Draco suggested a drinking game.

“Each of us has a beverage with exactly one drop of Veritaserum. It will last for one answer each time we drink. One drinks, the other asks a question and then we switch until the glass is empty. Sound alright?” Harry shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. “D’you really think that’s a good idea? With our past and everything? I’m already a little drunk. Combine that with Veritaserum and...I bet I’ll make a fool of myself.”, he added.

Draco smiled. “That’s exactly the goal. I will, too. As soon as it is foreseeable that we would fall back into old patterns and insulting each other or anything similar, we cancel the whole thing. But I would really like to talk openly.” His way of admitting this simple wish was enough proof for Harry to go along. When the blond brought two pints filled with different colourful liquids – “Don’t worry, they’re just cocktails” – he wasn’t sure how long Draco wanted this game to last. Probably until midnight.

“Alright, I’ll start with the question.”, Draco declared and added one drop of clear liquid into each glass. Harry took a sip. “What happened between you and Granger during all those years? Why is she dating the Weasel now?”

“Really? That’s your first question? Alright, nothing. We love each other like siblings, but there’s no spark. She’s the sister I always wished for, so nothing ever happened. Her and Ron, well, they fight a lot but they have a passion for each other. He’s the anchor that grounds her.” Draco seemed a little disappointed and drank a little. “Well?”

“Alright. You and Parkinson?” The Malfoy heir laughed. “Please! She always wanted to but never realized the one basic fact: I’m bent.” Harry’s thoughts started whirling. “Oh. You like boys?” His voice sounded like an overly enthusiastic child.

Draco smirked. “Only one question at a time. My turn. What happened in the Chamber of Secrets?”

“Oh Merlin, that’s some old story you digged up. Well, the diary your father gave to Ginny” – Harry hesitated for a short moment but Draco gestured for him to continue – “was a Horcrux.” Now the blond gasped in shock. “He possessed her and used her to build his sixteen year old self again. She sent the Basilisk, but never knew about it. Like a trance. When I entered the Chamber that day – Lockhart and Ron were on the other side of the rubble wall – Riddle was already out of the book and Ginny lay on the floor. We argued and he mocked Dumbledore. When I defended him, Fawkes – his phoenix – came and brought me the Sorting Hat. Riddle called for the Basilisk” – Draco started kneading his hands and biting his lips now – “but Fawkes hacked out the eyes. Then the Hat gave me the sword of Gryffindor and I fought the snake. Her name was _Mudblood Crusher_ in Parsel, really stupid, if you ask me. I killed the snake with a sword but got a tooth in my arm.” He rolled up his sleeve and showed the scar. Draco shifted to his side and touched it, which made Harry shiver in return. “Fawkes saved me with his tears. I stabbed the Diary with the fang – now idea why – and the Horcrux was destroyed. Ginny woke up and we left. End of the story.” He shrugged.

“You really need to work on your story-telling skills.”, Draco rolled his eyes. “That was by far more thrilling and entertaining than anything Beedle the Bard could ever have come up with and you act like it wasn’t a big deal at all. Shite, P-Harry, could you have acted any more Gryffindor?”

They talked on and on. Draco brought another round of drinks and they were sitting across each other on the sofa soon enough, their knees touching, sharing stories. About the Triwizard Tournament, Draco’s upbringing and Pureblood traditions, family bonds and then –

“Tell me about the night with Dumbledore. What happened after you left?”

Draco looked down. He still seemed terrified and lost at the memory. “We went back to the Manor. I felt terrible. Terrible for failing, terrible for the deaths and the damage, just really really miserable. He waited for us at the Manor. He praised Severus for killing Dumbledore. Then he turned to me.” Both boys gulped – Draco at the memory, Harry at the simple image. “He Crucio’ed me and made my mother watch. He did it for hours and everyone watched. The others laughed, Fenrir was the worst. He even asked my mother if she minded a little bite... Every time I went close to losing my mind, he stopped and gave me a break. Then he started anew.” A silent tear ran down the porcelain cheek. Harry hugged the other boy, trying to give him a little warmth. “After his _treatment_ , he announced that he was to live in Manor from then on. He told my mother to prepare the Master Bedroom for himself. She wasn’t allowed to send an elf! What an open abasement! When he proclaimed that my aunt Bellatrix was to have the bedroom right next to his’, she was mad with happiness. She left with my mother to supervise her work. Severus asked if he could escort me to my room since my task was fulfilled and I wasn’t to any more use to him at that moment. He allowed it and called it mercy.”

Draco sobbed and covered his head in Harry’s shoulder.

“I have never talked about this before. But I wanted to, you know.” He leant back a little so they were sitting apart once more, though not by much. “Come on. Your turn.” Harry sipped but couldn’t help feeling drained. Draco’s story had reminded him of so many things; he knew how terrible the boy must have felt. Not only because of the pain, but because of the humiliation, the laughter...

Grey eyes found his’. “Tell me about your relatives, Harry. All of it, not only excerpts. What really happened to you there?”

Harry wanted to strangle him for that perfectly timed question. But it seemed fair. Draco shared his terrible experience with him and so would he. This time, Harry talked about everything. The spiders in the cupboard, the workload and the cooking, the lack of food and his cousin’s beatings, the way aunt Petunia could aim with a saucepan and all those evenings and weeks with Ms. Figg. He talked about Aunt Marge and her dog, the way everyone talked about his parents and his loneliness, his dreams of another world and all those terrible events where he had been punished without being guilty.

Draco never left his side. In fact, as Harry went on, the hugged him closely and started to lightly caress his hand with his thump. It was then when Harry noticed something break inside him and he remembered Charlie’s words. _Oh no_.

He started sobbing and couldn’t stop. Tears welled in his eyes, leaving him unable to see and all those suppressed anger and misery, the loneliness, all the fears and panic attacks were there at once. His head hurt terribly from the lack of steady breathing but he couldn’t help it. Harry gulped for air when he held Draco as close as humanly possible and struggled to at least calm down a little. He tried to explain what happened to him and how the same thing had happened to Charlie. It was hard to tell if the other man could even understand part of what he babbled.

“’M s-s-s-sorry. I used to feel no-nothing at – at all and n-n-now it’s just e-every-everything at once.” Everything he had ever suppressed or questioned, every moment of self-loathing isolation – it was suddenly all there to pain him. “P-Please, D-Draco, I need to leave.”, he begged before he broke down again, not seeing or hearing anything aside from those terrible nags that tormented his mind.

“You know better than to carry all the weight alone, Harry.”, Draco simply answered and hugged him tighter. “I bet you went back to struggling all by yourself because you felt guilty and responsible. That” – he gestured between his’ and Harry’s miserable position – “was bound to happen eventually. Believe, I know how it feels. Was the same for me back then in the bathrooms. You know it, you were there. I just didn’t react quite appropriately. Neither did you, but it was adequate at that time.”, he added when Harry tried to apologize and feel guilty once more. Even though he doubted he would be able to even pronounce the words. His sobs were shaking his whole body.

“Shush.”, the blond said. “There is no need to explain. You cannot escape your emotions.”, Draco told him. “No matter how hard you try, no matter how good you get at Occlumency. They’ll always be there. You have to accept them; otherwise they are bound to bury you.” He sounded like he knew perfectly what he was talking about.

Harry still cried but regained at least a little control over his own voice. “After Voldemort came back, Dumbledore told me that ’Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it’. “ he admitted. “But I destroyed his complete office after Serious’ death. I let it all out in a moment much like this. And it didn’t do me much good. I was still empty and alone. I still hated to feel anything.”

Draco nodded at that. “Perfectly understandable and irrevocably wrong. You _need_ to feel. What we feel makes us who we are. I take it you prefer not ending up as Severus, who never quite allowed himself to face his own emotions until they overcame him. Don’t you agree that this did not do him any good?” Harry shivered. “No, thanks. I prefer my hair washed.”

Both looked at each other and a little of the tension from before broke in laughter. Harry still had tear streams across his face but it felt good to lose some of the weight.

“Did you know that my Boggart is a Dementor?”, he finally said. “It’s funny, people always expect it to be Voldemort, but it never was. The feeling of panic and anger and fear is much worse when you’re completely helpless. I think I always preferred feeling nothing to that. Thing is, it doesn’t work that way, does it?”

“No.”, Draco answered. “Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”, he asks in the same moment when Harry absent-mindedly sips his cocktail, forgetting about its content.

“You could kiss me.”, he blurted and his face falls into a panicked expression that he said the exact thing aloud. “Oh, shite, Draco, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to – “

He was silenced rather abruptly when soft pale lips found his’. The kiss was short and sweet, tentative and so warm that Harry forgot about everything else. Draco retreated just a little, the ghost of his breath still on Harry’s mouth and murmured: “Wish I had done this sooner.” and went back to devouring his lips. This time, there was a trace of wetness caressing his skin and Harry opened his mouth to invite his former nemesis in, to consume and be consumed entirely.

There were still stains of tears on his face and his throat was still a bit sore but it was nothing compared to the dizzy feeling of kissing Draco. With Cho it had just been wet and regretful, Ginny had held passion and desire but this – this powerful tenderness that gave him the feeling it was alright to be weak for once – this was just different. And, to be honest, arousing. They were so close and their bodies were pressed against each other enough to feel a certain reaction easily. Harry stiffened at the thought and Draco backed away a little as if to make sure they were still on the same page. “Are you alright?”, he asked. “Am I going too far?”

“No.”, Harry reassured him and looked away. Draco sighed. “How about this: Have another sip of your drink and I’ll do the same. We need to be honest here, right?”

Both of them gulped down a mouthful (he was nervous) and the blond asked him again. “What’s the matter?” He sounded worried and Harry hated to be the reason for this insecurity. “I – I wanted this to happen since...Christmas, I think. I might’ve been wondering before. But I’ve never been with, I mean, I haven’t even...”

“Harry.”, Draco whispered soothingly. “No one cares if you are inexperienced. You hardly had time to even figure out what you liked, even less to go that far with anyone. It is not something that would taint you, you know.”

“But I don’t even manage to talk about... _it_...” from the corner of his eye he saw the other man trying to hide his amusement at the shy wording. “George and Charlie had to explain everything to me the other day. I could barely say the words.” Oh, Merlin, he wished for his mouth to shut and never open again. Stupid potion! “And....and...when I tried....to...try it...it just hurt, it wasn’t, I could....maybe I’m just not...maybe I can’t ever...” Now, there was no mistaking the situation, Draco laughed at him. Before he could get up and leave the place in his misery, he had pale arms wrapped around him.

“That, my friend, is one of the most stupid reasoning against kissing someone I’ve ever heard. First: You have always been rather shy. That is not a bad thing. It might take some time to get used to any kind of verbal intimacy and it will take practice, naturally. Second: Knowledge is good. It was good that you have finally been told what to do and expect. And third, about the” he coughed “ _fitting_ problem: Will you believe me when I am telling you that you probably did it the wrong way?”

Harry shot him an insulted look. What was there to do wrongly? Draco seemed to read his mind.

“Doing this too fast or to harsh will hurt. You need to slowly relax your muscles, learn how to open up yourself and even then it requires further patience to get used to the intrusion itself. Did you do that, Harry? Did you take your time, enough lubricant and waited for your body to adjust?” The grey eyes searched for the green ones (that were truthfully reluctant to meet them, thank you very much) and through his burning face and his shame, Harry shook his head. He felt tight with arousal from those words and their former activities as well as ashamed by his own ignorance.

“Thought so.”, the blond finished with a smug look on his face. “Now, where were we....?” He did not, however, wait, for Harry to answer but locked their lips again with the same soft passion Harry had drowned in earlier. Draco shifted them around so Harry was sitting on his lap, held close by those lean arms that caressed his shivering back, his hair and, just barely noticeable, his bum. It was all so fast and blurry but he didn’t mind. Even when his clothed erection again brushed against something as equally hard, he did not care. The feeling of another warm arousal against his was too seducing and he grinded against Draco, who pushed him against his groin with as much desiring moans, again and again and again. Time passed as they swallowed each other’s moans eagerly before moving their lips up and down every bit of skin within reach. Harry discovered that Draco loved being bitten in the neck whereas the latter put his actions on a new level that left Harry breathless.

At first he didn’t hear the muttered words through the mist of lust. “Please don’t stop. You are doing so well, Harry.”, Draco started quivering. “Yes, that feels perfect. Keep doing that. I can feel how hard you are for me.”, he moaned and Harry was closer to coming with every word. “Oh, you’re wonderful. Don’t stop, Harry, it feels so good. Don’t hold back, please. I’m so close.”

He wasn’t able to answer in an equally beautiful manner, but at least he managed a whispered stream of “Yes....oh yeah...so good...” and finished with a hoarse cry that sounded suspiciously like the blondes’ name. Draco’s moan of release followed just seconds after. They were limp in each others’ arms.

Before Harry had time to consider their situation and how fast he had finished, he was drawn in another deep kiss. “That”, Draco praised, “was fantastic. And not at all embarrassing or coy.” He pecked a blushing Harry again. “Thank you.” Just then, the magical wall clock cried “HAPPY NEW YEAR!” and they chuckled into each others’ mouth.

“Happy New Year, Harry.”

“Happy New Year, Draco.”


	11. Deals

The next morning was filled with quiet kisses and cautious discussions. They had woken up three times due to their respective nightmares but the company of the other man had always calmed them down enough to go back to sleeping. Now, there was the nightmarish reality to face. At first, Harry asked sleepily if they were boyfriends now, which Draco answered to with a mildly amused “You better bet.” Draco also had spent some time to assure Harry that, yes, even in broad daylight, he did not find him unattractive. He was skinny, sure, but definitely good-looking. Harry didn’t quite believe him but didn’t press on further. Then, there was the question if, how and when to make them official – if not to the public, then at least to their families.

“I think it’s best to tell them from the beginning. They’ll understand.”, Harry insisted.

Draco wasn’t so sure. “Given our history I deem it more likely to get hexes thrown at me.”

“They won’t.” Harry shifted further into Draco’s arms. It had been really comforting to wake up in somebody else’s warmth. He took a pale hand and kissed each finger. “Please, Draco, trust me on this. It will only cause trouble if we don’t.”

Draco’s mouth kissed along Harry’s earlobe. He inhaled with pleasure and closed his eyes. He could get used to this. “What do I get in return if I give in?”

“Always the Slytherin.”, Harry chuckled and reached behind to let his fingers trail downwards. “I might think of something nice to give you.” The tip of Harry’s index finger had reached the soft glans of Draco’s prick and moved along with tentative movements before he took the whole shaft in his hand.

His lover moaned a soft “I might be seduced in accepting your offer. Oh, yes, that feels good.”

Touching another man’s erection, even without seeing it, was thrilling. Every gasp and moan out of Draco’s mouth encouraged Harry to keep going, to stroke a little less shyly and to finally turn around to look at what he was doing. The pale face was somewhat beautifully contorted and his voice was filled with emotion when he talked Harry through this experience yet again. “I love that. The way you move your hand. Keep going, Harry. It feels amazing. You’re amazing. Oh, yes.”

Without hesitation, Harry forced himself to do something utterly Gryffindor. He slid down the silky sheets until he was facing the hard arousal that was surrounded by neatly trimmed blond hair. It was flushed in a faint pink, not a huge size but very pretty to look at and Harry gave a short kiss on the wet tip before he murmured “I like your prick. It’s beautiful.” From above, he heard a faint “Thanks.” and a moan when he trailed his tongue along Draco’s penis to get a feeling for the texture and taste.

The taste was a little bitter and more salty than he would like with his food but it fit Draco. There was a hint of something peculiar to it and Harry decided he really enjoyed that. He opened his mouth wide enough to take his boyfriend (!) in without letting the sensitive flesh get in contact with his teeth and tried to create a tight channel. Draco shivered violently now. “Yes, that’s perfect. Move your head just a little. That feels – Harry!”, he cried when the black haired man used his tongue to stimulate him further.

Harry knew that he would gag should he try to take all of Draco in his mouth and he feared the erection would fall out of his mouth should he withdraw too much. He used his hand to hold the hard shaft steady and moved his tongue and lips around it as best as he could. “Oh, Salazar, that’s it. Your mouth is just perfect, Harry. I love the way your tongue feels on me. Keep going.” Draco kept talking all the time, encouraging and praising Harry to continue and experiment.

It made him feel prouder than he’d like to admit, the supporting words and sweet nothings. He had never been told he was good and talented so much – not even when it came to Quidditch – and it filled him with warmth. Losing himself in a world of Draco’s pleasure, he nearly missed his warning cry before his mouth was filled with the salty and sticky result of Draco’s orgasm. Unsure what to do, Harry grabbed his shirt from the night before from the floor and spit everything into it. He wrinkled his nose.

Draco laughed. “Not that much into the taste, then? Personally, I am not fond of it much, either. The texture is just gross.”

“Agreed.”, Harry murmured and looked down at his own tented boxers. “I better take a shower.” He went for the bathroom but even before he could enter the stall, a very naked Draco had caught up with him and held him back. “You really think I would let you take care of that alone?” He fondled the front of Harry’s underwear and the latter moaned but shifted uncomfortably. “I’m not.... _styled_...as fancily as you. You might not like it.”, he admitted in a self-conscious manner, not meeting Draco’s eyes. “Also, we made a deal and that was your reward, you know.”

“Hm, then I would like to propose another deal. I get to _style_ you right now and am occasionally allowed to call you Potter again – and you will call me Malfoy should the situation seem fit – and we will get rid of that painfully looking problem down there. The shower can wait until after that. Sound agreeable?” He intensified his words with very precise movement up and down Harry’s prick. “Uh, yeah... _oh Merlin_...sounds... _uh_...alright to me.”

Draco grinned mischievously and went to collect his wand. “Accio, razor. Accio wet towel. Accio aftershave balm.” He shoved Harry back on the bed and caught the three objects that zoomed in. “Take off that awful shorts” – he was wearing Quidditch shorts with snitches on them – “and spread your legs, darling.”, he drawled and Harry complied, face flushed and really insecure now that he was to show himself completely to Draco in broad daylight. Draco touched the razor with his wand and muttered some words to it, then sat down next to Harry and caressed his thighs. “Don’t worry. It will not hurt you. This razor is as magical as is the balm. No irritation, no pain, no remaining hair and no leftover bad taste on the skin because it will be absorbed instantly.” His explanation was accompanied by wiggling eyebrows.

The grey eyes trailed up and down the small but lean body appreciatingly. “This is the best view I might have ever had in my boudoir, Harry.” Harry’s face burnt and he rose a little from his lying position. “Erm, thanks, but I really doubt that. I mean, look at you.”

Draco shook his head in mild exasperation while he started working the warmth of the towel into Harry’s skin. It felt so wonderful that Harry feared he would be close to coming before they even started. He groaned in shame and the blond sent him an understanding smile. “My dear, we will have to work on that attitude of yours. Insecurity does not suit you. Modesty, yes.”, he clarified. “But you are much too valuable to question your own significance like that, Potter. But do not worry, we will work you through this.” With that, he pressed Harry down again with a light kiss on his lips.

The small machine went to work. First, Harry’s upper pubic hair was neatly trimmed and shaved into a nice small rectangle form. Then, Draco manoeuvred his legs further apart and tightened the skin here and there to ensure there would be no cutting. It was confusingly arousing, being touched so casually in his most intimate place. Also, the feeling of deep embarrassment was spreading in him, really, but he was hard the whole time and secretly wished to be able to just disappear in a nearby whole. The blond saw his confusion and discomfort and soothed him. “There is no need for that, you know.” He lifted one of Harry’s legs and made him turn around. “No need for what?”, Harry asked, his voice high-pitched and just mortifying. “Feeling like a stupid scrawny git that can’t keep up with his Adonis-boyfriend?”

A chuckle sounded right next to his ear. He lay on the bed with legs wide spread and Draco pulled his arse cheeks apart for the razor to reach every hair. His hips started grinding against the sheets in a desperate search for relief and the noises he made…Harry was starting to doubt himself. Would he look like a twig on the mattress? Should he be making sounds like that? A simple touch should not make him fall apart as easily. Why couldn’t he stop trembling?

“I already told you: I very much enjoy the view. Your body is beautiful, if a little thin – well, very thin – but it is still a sight to behold. And I did not expect you to still be so muscled; Quidditch really shaped you. And Harry, the way you wriggle beneath my touch makes me imagine all those things I would enjoy doing to you.”, he whispered in his ear. “I would love to kiss that smooth skin, lick it, taste it...there are so many possibilities.”, he sighed and Harry moaned at the very thought. The razor had finally finished its job and Draco rubbed Harry with the towel before massaging the balm into his skin. With a shiver, Harry finally exclaimed: “If you keep doing that, I’m going to...going to...ah!” Draco had put away the bottle and was suddenly licking the creek between Harry’s cheeks. He held them apart and his tongue caressed the smooth skin with eagerness.

The feeling was indescribable. The wet warmth around his entrance made him forget about basically everything else. Harry let out a surprised cry and tried not to press too much against Draco’s face. His nerves were tense with arousal and still he knew this would not be enough. But it was nevertheless by far the best touch he had ever experienced, he thought. When that soft tongue slowly entered him, he was shaking all over. “Draco”, he managed. “So good.” Draco altered between carefully pushing his tongue inside the tight ring of muscles he’d been abusing on his own and nibbling on the wrinkled exterior, which tickled in the most arousing way possible. When Harry thought he wasn’t able to bear more teasing (he probably moaned it aloud), Draco made him turn around and slowly kissed the tip of his prick. Harry was so wound up that he did not hear how the other man summoned a small bottle of oil, nor did he notice the removal of the stopper. All he knew that his penis was harder than ever before now that it was massaged by a talented tongue and soft pale lips.

Suddenly, Draco took him in his mouth completely and Harry felt a slick finger carefully entering his backside. It didn’t hurt at all. Draco looked up, searching his face for any discomfort and seemed very pleased about the fact that there was none. He went back to slowly pleasing Harry with his tongue whilst pushing his finger in deeper, moving it to get him stretched little by little until he was able to insert a second one. Harry tensed. He could feel the stretch, the way his muscles clenched, but there was still no pain. Just pleasure that multiplied when those two fingers worked their way towards the point that Harry himself had explored before, even though with much less talent. His hips bucked, searching the pressure, the friction. If anybody heard the noises he made, they’d probably think he was in terrible pain. But there was none, only the torturous burn of pleasure.

This time, with Draco doing him, Harry had not to bite his lips in pain but he did bite them hard, trying to make this last, trying to delay the end of this as much as possible. His legs were shaking in pleasure and his groin felt about ready to burst. Draco’s fingers worked magic inside him, pressing and massaging his prostate constantly while his fingers fucked him in a steady rhythm and his mouth was stretched around him with vigour. The blond noticed his struggle and lifted his mouth from Harry’s prick.

“Come on, Harry. Let me hear your beautiful voice.” He said while pumping his two digits into him again and again. Harry let go of his lips and moaned louder than was reasonable but Draco cooed. “Don’t fight it. There is no need to hold back. I want you to let go. I want to taste you.”, Draco said and, again, his words were Harry’s undoing. When Draco took him back into his mouth, it only took a few movements of his head and Harry came with a shout. Every nerve in his body sang, trembled and snapped at once, his voice that cried out Draco’s name didn’t seem like his own and his anus pulsed around those fingers inside him, seemingly dragging them in even further.

Spasms accompanied his orgasm until he was spent completely, limp like a doll in Draco’s arms. Draco had spit his spill into Harry’s shirt as well – since it was soiled anyway – and smiled fondly. “You look really sexy when you’re like that.”

“You look really sexy no matter what you do.”, Harry replied. “And that was by far the best orgasm I ever had. Your fingers...”

Draco kissed him with passion. “I know, they’re nearly magical. But so are you.” He gave a very light spank on Harry’s butt cheek and made him yelp with a laughter. “I think I’d like to see that body in its full beauty much more often, if you let me.”

“Shower?”

“Shower.”


	12. Words

Judy did seem a little surprised when he returned to their next meeting. She didn’t say anything but her face did for her. The first words, however, were an apology. “I’m sure Charlie didn’t mean to offend you. She is very insecure about that particular topic”, she explained. “But it really would have been of help if you offered any explanation for your behavior. You have not participated very much in our discussions, Mr. Potter.”, she scolded.

He looked her directly in the eyes. “I know. But I never really felt like it. And it shouldn’t be anyone’s business what I think about my family.”

“True.”, Judy agreed. “But it does not help you making a clean cut with your past, either. And you really should try to do that. It might help with the anxiety. And the nightmares. And your problems concerning your nutrition.”

Fidgeting, Harry answered “I….I…I have. Talked about it, I mean.”

“During Christmas?” He nodded.

“How did it feel when you did? Were you relieved? Or rather concerned?”

“I’m not sure. They seemed to understand. It wasn’t easy, though and I didn’t like to say so much about it, but I slept a little better.”

Judy seemed to reconsider. “How about this: The person you’ve talked to could be your training partner. Talk to them first, try to figure out what to say and how to phrase it. Once you have, you might want to talk through certain aspect during one of our meetings to gain another perspective. This way, you are not coerced in revealing too much but we can still offer you some help.”

Harry thought this through. It seemed fair and very uncomfortable at the same time. He wasn’t sure if he really wanted to open up that much – even if his audience contained people that had gone very similar struggling. Entering Room 238, he found Draco already sitting in his familiar chair. They had agreed not to let anyone know about their predicament yet, so he just gave a short wave and sat down.

This time, he talked a little more, though reluctantly, about his relatives. He told the children and teens that they had never liked him – that he had been a barely tolerated item in their house and never really had a social contact outside their harsh words. He shrugged when the others – especially Charlie – expressed their pity and told them it wasn’t necessary. He’d endured. Nothing else mattered to him than that.

“You might want to believe that physically surviving such a surrounding is enough – but emotionally you have much less power of resistance, especially at an age that young.”, Judy told him and the others. “Think of it like that: There a beautiful interior in a beautiful house. An earthquake destroys the house and its rooms thoroughly. An estate agent decides this house is still worth obtaining, but his funds are rather little. So he concentrates on the most visible damage: the exterior, the gardens, main walls…things that are obvious to the eye. After some time, he starts presenting the house to some people. He tells them it has been damaged but he, too, explains that there have been restorations and renovations, even though there’s still work left to be done. His customers cannot _see_ the internal damage and the work it would take to properly restore the house. They do not know what the agent does.”

Harry frowned. “Are you telling me I’m a damaged house?”

“No.”, Judy chuckled. “I’m telling you you’re an estate agent with too little emotional funds to do everything on your own.”, she said and a small “Oh.” left Harry’s lips. “I’m not lying.”

“And neither does the agent. He just keeps quiet.”, Judy explained. “That’s what we’re here for. To give you the support you need to function and to build up something from what’s been destroyed.”

Harry stared at her. He didn’t know how to react, much less how to respond, so he decided to keep his mouth shut and simply nodded. At the opposite side of the room, Draco chuckled. “You were never one for words, were you?”

Harry simply stuck out his tongue and the previously silent room broke into laughter.


	13. Out of the cupboard

They decided to tell their friends and families exactly two weeks later. Narcissa Malfoy seemed quite fazed by the fact that her son was dating a male – no less Harry Potter – but according to Draco, she just needed time to process the news in dignity before giving them a real opinion. “She has always been a model of dignified behaviour and I would expect no less of her now.”

His few remaining friends had reacted with blatant malicious joy. Their mutual spying and watching each other had not gone unnoticed by them and they had only waited for the tension to snap at some point.

“I still remember all those times...’I hate Potter, please, why would I ever consider getting even close to him?’”, Pansy had recited.

“’Have you seen the ugly rat’s nest he calls a haircut? I would rather go swimming with the Giant Squid than ever be seen with that.’”, Blaise had added, laughing so hard that tears had appeared in his eyes. “Guess you need to find your bathing suit soon, Draco.” Pansy had fanned herself. “Salazar, I really need to Firecall Daphne and Nott. They owe me each ten Galleons. Enjoy your Golden Boy, Draco!”

Blaise had stayed a little longer than her and mocked him a bit, even if he had not placed a bet about their possible relationship. He had advised Draco to be as careful as possible in public from now on – people might threaten or hex him for defiling the Chosen One – but had otherwise stayed calm. “I never thought you had it in you.”, he had finally said. “I always expected you to fail at true love because of your pride. It is a refreshing development that you have not sabotaged yourself yet.”

Draco had nodded. “I am trying to learn from past mistakes. Even though I doubt I will always succeed.”

“Maybe, but that is still more than your ancestors ever managed.” Blaise had left Draco to muse over that statement alone.

At the Burrow, Harry was more nervous than ever. He stood outside the front door for more than twenty minutes before Arthur found him, coming from the chicken stable.

“Harry, my boy, what are you doing outside? Afraid to enter the mess inside? Or is there anything to confess?” He gave him an once-over. Harry took a deep breath. “How do you know?”

“Please, I have raised enough children to be able to recognize nervous anxiety from far away. Come on in, it won’t be bad. Promise.”, he said kindly and guided the nervous teen inside. “Molly, dear, do you mind bringing some hot chocolate for us? Harry here would like to talk about something.”, he called when they entered the living room.

“A confession? Sounds juicy.”, George called from upstairs. “Wait for me before you spill.”

“George, don’t be so noisy.” Percy groaned. “I haven’t finished my report yet.”

“Oh, Harry, there you are. We thought you weren’t coming.”, Hermione scolded and Ron followed her down the stairs. “Yeah, mate, what took you so long`”

Ginny kissed his cheek when she left the kitchen, followed by Molly who carried a tablet filled with hot chocolate and marshmallows. Harry gulped, again questioning his sanity for wanting to tell everyone at once. _Stupid_ , he thought. Charlie and Bill weren’t here, though – but they might have been actually supportive. Balancing his cup, he sat down in between a sea of red-heads.

Arthur tried to encourage him. “Come on, lad, don’t be so mysterious. What’s bothering you?”

“I...the thing is...”, Harry started. He sipped his hot chocolate but ignored the cookies. “There is...,well...”

“Someone – probably male – you really like and who might like you back and now you have to announce that you not only like blokes but that your love is probably someone we might not agree on?”, George blurted, unable to wait for the black-haired man to make the confession himself.

Ron frowned. “Since the only one he’s been seeing on a regular basis is Malfoy, that would be him.”

“Oh, really, Harry? That is a little cliché, don’t you think?”, Ginny mocked and her ex-boyfriend groaned in misery.

“Would you stop that?”, he complained. “I’ve spent hours and hours practising this conversation and now you guys just carry on this conversation without me!” He turned to Ron. “Aren’t you...?”

“Disgusted? Terrified? No.”, he answered. “Maybe surprised that it didn’t happen earlier.”

“Huh?”

“Come to think about it, we should have expected you to follow your attraction ever since sixth year, honestly.”, Hermione told him and turned to a grinning Ron. “I guess I owe you five Galleons now.”

“You bet about this?”

“Well, it was more like a misplaced prophecy.”, Ron explained. “I said something like ‘One of these days, those two will jump in bed with each other just to get bloody rid of their shit.’” – “Ron!”, Molly grumbled – “And ‘Mione was like ‘No way, they’d never admit the find each other attractive.’ and then we bickered a bit and finally made a bet.”

“Were you really expecting us to make you feel bad for your choice of lover, Harry?”, Arthur asked in a serious voice, completely ignoring his children’s ramble.

Biting his lips, Harry answered “No. I just expected everyone to be less...supportive. My Aunt and Uncle hated homosexuality and you have to admit that you history with the Malfoy family is...”

“...difficult.”, Molly agreed. “Still, we do not know young Draco as good as you do, Harry. We will trust your judgement and give him the chance to prove that he is indeed worthy of your affection.”

“Also, he has been cleared of his charges and served his sentence. In the eyes of the Ministry, he is a re-established wizard.”, Percy added pompously from his working space across the room. “Until he did not hide anything back then or did something against the laws we have to grant him the benefit of doubt. In dubio pro reo.”, he stated and went back to his work.

Molly clapped her hands. “It would be a wonderful idea to invite him!” She went to the kitchen to prepare dinner. Arthur sighed, sent Ron and George a warning glance and went back outside. Hermione and Ginny had already started a conversation on everything they knew or guessed about the bonds and behaviour of old pure-blood families.

“I don’t know if I’m happy about the outcome of this or if I want to run and hide in my old cupboard forever.”, he sighed.

“Ah, now, little one, once you’re out of the cupboard, you’ll have to climb up the stairs instead of going back.”, George declared with barely contained amusement. “Even if that means forcing your shiny new boy-toy to put up with all of us at once.”

Harry dreaded their encounter even more then.


	14. Dreams are not reality, but they help you face it

He woke with a start and a throbbing erection. The sheets were wet from his sweat and his...ejaculation. Harry had had a wet dream, like a school boy. And it had been horrifying. He was shaking all over, his mind fogged and blurry. His dreams had always been overwhelming but never this intense or sexual. Leaving the bed, Harry basically ran down the stairs and made himself a very strong tea that didn’t help one little bit.

He was still a shivering mess when the sun started rising and Kreacher asked him what he wanted for breakfast. “Nothing. Kreacher, I’m not really hungry.”, he told his houseelf. A mumbling complaint and the threat to re-allocate his former mistress if Harry wouldn’t at least have lunch followed and he was alone again. He sat in his chair for quite a while, trying to process his dream.

_Draco would never do that to you,_ he told himself. _He isn’t violent. But I liked it so much! Why would someone like something like that? The way he forced me, the way he made me unable to even move, the way he...we...fucked!_ Harry groaned, his erection growing anew. He had heard of people liking a rough handling in the bedroom but he had never really thought about it, much less would he have expected to dream such a thing. Wasn’t this completely pervert? Would Draco like that, be into that? Would he expect that?

By lunchtime, Harry had himself worked up into a fully-blown panic. He paced up and down his living-room, his kitchen and his garden, always in circles but never getting those images to leave his mind. His food was untouched, again and Kreacher’s complaints died out, unheard. Was he some kind of kinky pervert for not being able to forget about them? Shivering, shaking and vulnerable, Harry felt his magic respond to his chaotic inner life.

When Draco arrived at Grimmauld place around 7 in the evening, he found an uneaten lunch and a very chaotic surrounding. Kreacher told him that his Master had been “an antsy brat of a mess” the whole day since waking up. He found Harry in the garden, pulling at his own hair while trying to repair the damage in a wooden rose arbour. “Alright there, Mr. Potter?”, the blond asked with a risen eyebrow. Harry jumped at his voice. This was new. The Golden Boy was usually alert but never jumpy except for when he was really wound up about something. What had happened that he was startled to the bone now?

“Harry?”, he asked carefully, finally taking in the mess the black haired man was. “Are you alright? What has happened?”

The other teen shivered. “I don’t think I can explain this.”, he murmured. Draco came closer and touched his shoulder. Harry flinched. “Sorry, I’m...not feeling so good, today.”

“What is the matter? Please, I cannot help you if you retract from me.” Harry shook his head. “Potter.”, Draco said sternly. “You look a mess. This place is havoc. And I can already tell that you have not eaten, yet again. Since you are already underweight, you will either talk now or I swear to Salazar I will use Legilimency.” He was so pale. Draco tried anew. “Please? You need help. Let me help you, Harry. Let me in.” The sudden blush on Harry’s cheeks told him that his wording had struck a nerve. “Is this something sexual?” A nod. “Why would that unnerve you so much?”

“Nrgh!”, Harry groaned and rose, pacing up and down the garden. “If I tell you, you’ll laugh. Or think I’m a freak or something. This is beyond embarrassing.” He tried to leave.

Draco wrapped his arms around him, which seemed to make Harry’s struggle even worse. He was behaving like a trapped animal. “Whatever is bothering you, I promise I will not judge, laugh or otherwise make you uncomfortable about it. But since it is something that affects your attitude concerning my person, I would rather you told me instead of tormenting the both of us with silence.”

Through the struggle and panic, Harry had calmed down enough to realize that he was right. There was no use in behaving like that because of a dream. _A somewhat violent wet dream that got you hard and wanton._ , his subconscious reminded him unhelpfully.

Taking a deep breath, he gestured toward a small stone bench next to his rose bushes and started talking as soon as they sat:

“In my dream, it was fifth year. I was in detention and Umbridge sent me towards the dungeons for someone else to ‘take care’ of me. It was a mixture of bordello room and torture chamber. And you were there – the one to give me detention. As a member of the Inquisitorial Squad.” Next to him, Draco gave a soft “Oh. I guess I see where this will be going.” Harry felt his throat constrict. “You do not have to tell me if you do not want to – but I can assure you, whatever bothers you about a dream like this is not as bad as you might think.”, his boyfriend soothed. “I would really like to hear the rest, please.”

“Well,...” Harry bit his lips. “You tricked me in a...position. I was bent over some...bars. And bound and chained. I couldn’t move. You spelled me naked and gagged me. Then you...hit me. With your hands. It hurt, but probably not as much as it could’ve. It was merely humiliating. Then you put something in me. A...toy. Oh, Merlin.”, Harry groaned and hid his face. “This is terrible.”

“A spanking and a butt plug?”, Draco asked. “That was my detention for you?”

“No! It was the beginning.” – “Oh. Well, continue, then.”

“You hit me more with the...plug?...inside. After ten...spanks..., I was hard. And you taunted me. Then, you did something with the toy and it moved and...grew bigger; little by little. You...jerked me off and then...” He made a noise of misery. “You put your prick inside my mouth. I couldn’t bite you, because you had put something in my mouth. Like a gag, but open. You set a time frame and if I wouldn’t come within that frame, you promised you wouldn’t...you know...fuck me. But I did and so did you. In my mouth. While that toy fucked me from behind.” It was probably nearly comical to see him fight his humiliation and arousal from telling the story.

“Then, you left me there and watched me. The toy was still inside, moving and growing. I begged you to stop but you didn’t. You watched. I...it felt...like pain but also good. I clenched like crazy and my muscles hurt, but I couldn’t fight getting hard again. When _you_ were hard again, you took the toy out and...”

“Fucked you?”, Draco guessed, sounding concerned. “Did it hurt?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know. I didn’t want you to do it. It hurt because the thing before was smaller than you – like you had wanted it – but it wasn’t too bad. You set another time frame – if I wouldn’t come, you would not continue the detention for the rest of the week.”

“But you did?”

“Of course. You...I...it was so intense. It felt like my head exploded and I was struggling all the time but it didn’t help with the bonds. You had some sort of potion for stamina or something. You grew bigger and bigger and came for a really long time. I felt so full afterwards. You put that toy in me again and threatened that somebody else from the Inquisitorial Squad would come for the rest of the week if I told someone. Then you freed me while you left and it was over.”

“And...now?”, Draco asked, biting his lip. “How do you feel in retrospective?”

“That’s the problem!”, Harry shot. “I was...am aroused. And ashamed. Why would I like something as humiliating and embarrassing? Am I secretly pervert? Am I a masochist? A pain slut of sorts? This is ridiculous.”, he finished, his gaze on the frozen a partly snowy grass.

“First of all”, Draco began and made a gesture that told he didn’t want to be interrupted. “you should have contacted me right this morning. It would have spared you a lot of troubling yourself. Secondly: What you dreamt about was some sort of role play containing our former rivalry and antagonism. Thirdly: There is no such thing as perversion!” The Weasley’s had told him that, too, but how could that kind of thing not be perverse?, Harry wondered. Draco just went on. “There is want and need and preference and curiosity, but nothing of that should ever put you to shame. Another question: What was it that aroused you the most? The pain? The humiliation? The position? Or the lack of control, the power dream-me had over you?”, he looked at Harry expectantly.

“Erm...” – “Eloquent as usual, Potter.” – “Let me think, you git!”

“Merlin, being the Chosen one should really have enabled you to focus easier.”, Draco teased lightly. “Come on, tell me. What was it that aroused you?”

Gulping, Harry tried again. “I...I think...I really liked the way you...handled me. I didn’t have a choice but to come, to take everything you gave me. It overburdened me, yeah, and I didn’t really consent, but I wasn’t in charge of anything. I just had to take whatever you gave me. There was so much pleasure and you didn’t even really insult me, you...like...”

“I praised you? Who would have guessed....”

“Yeah, well, you called me...pet, I think? You also teased and mocked me and you were mean, but you never called me names or something. And you were....sort of gentle and rough at the same time. It was unnerving. And you really seemed to want me.”

“That I do. And did, to be honest. Just in another context.”, Draco admitted. “Anything else?”

“Well,” Harry fidgeted. “It...there was...dream-you said something. But it’s ridiculous, really. Is there...” The blond raised his eyebrows, waiting for his struggle to subside. “Is there a possibility for men to...get pregnant?” Harry let out a small laugh to make it plain that he didn’t at all believe such a stupidity, but he just _had_ to know this. In the dream, he had dreaded this threat the most, being involuntarily impregnated by his arch-nemesis, but in real life...

His eyes searched for the familiar silver ones, uncertain. The other boy sighed. “Technically, yes, there is, Harry, but conceiving as a male is not at all an easy endeavour. You can close your mouth, dear, I’m going to explain.” He said and forced Harry’s open lips to connect with each other again. “There is a potion that may create and uphold a male womb. It is sustained by the conceiver’s magic and follow-up potions to strengthen the carrier. Naturally, the ingredients are very rare and the possibilities to lose the child are rather high. Also, it puts the fathers’ lives at risk for the foetus has to be ‘fed’ by both of their magic, so to say. There are examples of men who died while trying to carry their child or ended up squibs. But, aside from these perils, yes, male wizards are enabled to carry children.”

“Wow.”, Harry mouthed. “I’d never have guessed. Shit.” Draco gave a sceptic smile. “Do you really want to discuss that topic now or may we return to your not-so-unsettling-but-rather-hot dream?” The black haired looked away and tried to hide his embarrassed face.

Following his previous example, Draco stood and paced in front of Harry. “To summarize it all: You had a dream telling you that you subconsciously liked an amount of domination and praise during sex – which would be quite expectable considering your forced role as leader and the lack of care and commendation in the past. With that in mind, we also know that you have endured punishment and pain before but you tried to avoid it, naturally. Seeking it in this context – a sexual one – might be a mechanism to cope.”

“Erm – I don’t understand. How so?”

“See, if chosen by none other than yourself, the pain is not forced upon you, but welcomed. It helps you coping in a way, because when you let the pain happen to you rather than being externally thrown into it, it would feel more like a part of something natural. At least, that would be my guess.”

Harry frowned. Could it be that easy? “What if this was true? If I...liked that kind of stuff...?”

“What if you did?”

“Wouldn’t you be...disgusted?”

Now, Draco laughed openly amused. “Oh, Harry. I would be ecstatic, to be honest.” A faint blush made its way across his cheeks.

The black-haired boy stared. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“No, actually. I rather like control and domination. To a certain extent, that is. I do not, nor have I ever, liked to torture or hurt people. I like to dominate them, to test their limits and push their boundaries, yes, but I am not a sadist.”, Draco admitted.

“How did you never tell me that?”

“We have been dating for nearly three weeks now, Harry. I wanted to wait for you to be more comfortable with anything related to sex in general before taking this step. It is not that I need these kinds of things – I just happen to like them. And if...” He took a step towards the still sitting Harry and kneeled between his legs. “...you would like things like that as well...” his fingers trailed up and down Harry’s thighs “...I would be very happy to experiment with you.” He caught Harry’s lips softly with his teeth and nibbled them. Harry moaned and sighed at the same time. “But only little by little. I would not make you do anything you are not comfortable with or throw you into the whole scenery too fast. There is no rush at all – and if we happen to never do anything the like, I would be fine with that as well.”

“But – “

“Harry.”, Draco’s voice was velvety and caring “Every form of physical relationship with you would please me immensely.” He nibbled alongside his jaw. “An interest for the more...experimental variations of sex is simply a wonderful bonus.” They kissed again, this time for real and with a breath-taking intensity. Harry shivered and bucked his hips involuntarily. “Draco...”, he moaned. “Can you…would you…show me, some time?”, he pleaded and the look he received was enough to make him tremble.

Draco’s smile was blinding. “Well, not tonight. You are a little too close already for proper play. But soon, pet, soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, well, well - I had planned to enclose the dream we're talking about in this work but decided against it. You'll find it in the second part of this series ("Detention in the Inquisitorial Manner"). Have fun reading. ;-)


	15. A sea of red

Meeting the Weasley’s for real for the first time since an eternity of hostility would probably make everyone more than a little nervous, but Draco was much too stubborn to show his concerns, lest voice them. He did, however, settle for a long trip to the Manor, returning three days later with a collection of dark and at least slightly, if not entirely, forbidden materials, ingredients and artefacts from the Malfoy’s personal stocks.

“My father most certainly has no more use for them and my mother and I both fear that one day an Auror might be inquisitive enough to uncover our ancient and hidden heirlooms. I just kept the potion ingredients I really need for myself.”, he told Harry and then explained. “It came to my knowledge that the WWW-business is always looking for new and rare materials but has problems purchasing them, of lately. I guess I am trying to make an offering of peace.”, he explained and Harry kissed him.

His warning Patronus seemed to have reached Ron and George just in time; they came running in their direction when they had reached the edge of the Burrow’s Wards.

George grinned. “Good day, fine gentlemen. What a wise decision to execute the dubious transactions outside. Less witnesses.”, he winked at Draco, not at all surprised or startled. Harry groaned. “Did you somehow expect Draco to bribe you with illegal materials? Was that the reason you accepted our relationship that easily?”

“Well.”, George shifted his head with unsuppressed pride. “I might have somehow expected that he still had some nice material hidden beneath their beautifully protected Manor’s floors that would be terribly interesting to turn into something profitable.”

He took the magically minimized bag out Draco’s hands and took a look inside. A joyous cry left his mouth and George started to grab inside euphorically. Ron grinned alongside his brother when he revealed some very rare potion ingredients. “It would’ve been fine if he hadn’t brought anything but it sure makes it easier to welcome him a little less biased, mate.” Leaning towards the blond, he said “You’re still a git, you know. But we’re used to every kind of deviationists here, so you’re good.”

“All the kinky people and lunatics, all the pranksters and overachievers, all the talentless and clouted, all the creatures and alikes are welcome in this noble sea of red-headed, blood-traitorous family acceptance.”, George stated celebratory and put everything back in the bag. “We glorify nutters of all kinds here.”

Draco looked very much distraught at the prospect of having to socialize with a bunch of maniacs. Harry sent George a warning glance. “Are you done? He’s already having a rough time with my madness “ – “and his own” – Ron interjected “why would you tell him he’s entering a loony bin?” Harry went on without paying any attention to his best friend.

“Sorry.”, he whispered to Draco. “They’re obviously very happy about your souvenirs. Talking rubbish is their way of being nice – well, sort of.” Draco nodded with a sceptical look. “Alright. I shall take this into consideration whenever I feel obliged to be mollified by a Weasley.”

Exchanging a weak smile, Harry and Draco made their way to the front door and inside the Burrow. Ron and George followed them. “Everyone – they’re here.”, George yelled. “And Draco will show us an imitation of the Lord Snakeface’s pooping face if we’re asking nicely.”

Draco’s face colour changed from pale white to an angry-embarrassed red at the last statement. Harry took his hand and pressed softly, trying not to laugh at the statement. “Please don’t get mad. He means well.”, he whispered.

“I know.” Draco murmured back. “But I am still afraid, sometimes. Do not expect me to be able to laugh about Him any time soon.” Harry nodded and they finally entered the cuddly living room. Molly Weasley was the first to greet them. She hugged Harry fiercely.

“Oh, dear, you look so lively today. Such a happy glow in your eyes. I guess we would have to thank young Mr. Malfoy for that?”, she turned to Draco and stretched out her hand. “Molly Weasley, I’m glad that you are able to make Harry smile.” Her smile was sincere and Draco took her hand immediately. “I do my very best, Mrs. Weasley and I would like to apologize for every former encounter our families have had. I doubt the Malfoy name has left any positive impression on you.” He looked like he wanted to say more, but was interrupted by Arthur.

“Let the past stay in the past, Mr. Malfoy. As long as we manage a civil behaviour now, there is no need to heat up bygones.” They shook hands with a sceptic expression each but things weren’t exactly tense. Just guarded, Harry guessed. Percy easily greeted Draco, and tried to involve him in a rather boring conversation about cauldrons and official standards for potion accessories. To his utter disappointment, Draco immediately picked up the topic and went through the pro’s and con’s of obligating factories to meet the given regulations. He was more than grateful when Ginny interrupted them with a fake farting noise.

“Guys, no offense, but this is simply boring. Also, dinner’s ready and mum’s going kittens if we’re not at the table on time. Save your breathe for Quidditch, will you?” She greeted Draco with a short smile and a nod and went in the next room. Just when they were about to start dinner, Hermione stumbled into the room, looking slightly dishevelled.

“Sorry I’m late.”, she apologized. “My parents were having a pipe burst and I tried to repair it magically. Most. Duncish. Idea. Ever.”

“Why?”, Ron asked and gave her a greeting kiss.

“Obviously because the electricity in her parent’s house would react on the magic immediately and, judging by the state of your hair, something exploded or burnt. Most likely the stove or the toaster.”, Draco dryly retorted. Everyone looked at him. “What? Her hair _is_ very messy. Even for Granger.”

“I know that.” Hermione didn’t even seem offended by his comment. “But I did not expect you to know about Muggle living conditions. I didn’t even expect you to know about any kitchen devices, be it Muggle or Magical ones. Good evening, by the way, Malfoy.”

“Hello, Granger. I might or might not have spent a lot of time hiding in the library during my last year in Hogwarts and I needed to appear occupied. So I read quite a lot of different books and the ones about Muggle studies were the least dangerous and unnerving. I might have needed a something....calming.” His eyes went down to the floor and he bit his lip. “I apologize; I did not mean to bring up such a topic.”

Ron was the first to break the silence. “Nah, we’re used to that. There’s a breakdown every once in a while and everybody’s fine with it. Can’t bloody boil it all up, can you, mate?” His eyes wandered to a frowning Harry, lightly scolding. “Supposed you can’t.”, he muttered.

“Have you always been this unbigoted with your emotions?”, Draco asked into the circle. Ginny shrugged. “Guess so. When there’s so many people around you have to clear the air fast if you don’t want to live in yelling –“

“- or total silence.”, George added. “Yeah, I guess it’s different with less people or more space. Or both, in you case.”

A nodding followed that statement. “I have always wondered if it might have been better for our family to behave more open in expressing what we think. It would have made all those dinner parties and exclusive gathering much less...straining.”

“Have you always been guessing about your parent’s opinions towards things?”, Hermione asked him. Draco shrugged. “Not always. Their most blatant statements were rather untoward, unfortunately. You know them best, I think.” She crossed her arms. “Sorry. I did not intend to defend this point of view.”, he added quickly. “It is not at all what I think, anymore – even though many still believe otherwise.”

Arthur interrupted them. “Well, Mr. Malfoy, why don’t we prove that?”

“What do you mean?”

“There is a Ministry-hosted Unity-Ball at the end of March. All the proceeds and donations will be given to public services for Muggleborn families and the liking. Everyone may attend – Wizards and Witches, Squibs and even Muggles as long as there is a connection to our world. Mr. and Mrs. Granger will be there, too. Why don’t you join us there and accompany Harry? It would set a positive precedence and be a very fitting surrounding to make your relationship official.”

“Oh.”, the blond seemed a little overburdened. “Would that not be...damaging your reputation?”

George laughed. “Once the reputation's shot, you get away with quite a lot. It’s been our Motto since forever. Being a Weasley or a honorary Weasley - ” he gestured to Harry and Hermione – “you easily get used to not caring about your public appearance. You might as well start wearing second-hand robes from now on.”

“I might be down at the ground and I might be a disgrace but never in the entire history of the Malfoy family has any man worn anything but tailor-made clothing. It would be preferable to go naked.”

Harry laughed “No complaints here.” and everyone grinned when Draco blushed.

Their meal went on without any more teasing and, even though it was a little tense, Draco agreed to a game of chess with Ron afterwards. They went back and forth, frowning, calculating and bickering until Draco grudgingly had to admit defeat.

“Weasley, who would have guessed you have a strategic mind? Is that something you need to get that bottomless pit you call a stomach filled?”

Ron laughed and waved. “Bloody hell, no. I love food but there’s always been plenty around. I grew up with five older brothers and a vixen of a sister.” – “Hey!” – “Don’t deny it, Gin. Whatever, I had to strategize from day one. Which makes me wonder: Without any siblings, how d’you manage?”

Rolling his eyes, Draco answered. “Have you met my father? Always the epitome of strategic manipulation and subtlety? I want a rematch.”

“Fine. Watch me beat you again.”

He lost. Several games later, they were still even, but Harry didn’t want to wait for one of them to give up so he ended their match with a very consequent switch of his wand that put their chessmen back into their bags. “Hey”, Draco protested. “I was winning.” – “Ha, you weren’t!”, Ron challenged. Before their arguments could heat up any further, Harry took Draco’s hand and whispered “It’s your choice. You can stay and play all night OR we could do some of the stuff we both like so much.”

Draco’s eyes grew wide at the suggestion. “You know what, Weasley, we will postpone the rematch. I think your brain cells are in dire need of recovery and I am in a rather merciful mood today.”, he drawled. Ron sent Harry a pointed look.

“Whatever it was you told him, mate, don’t ever tell me about it. I might need to ask ‘Mione to Obliviate me.” He shook his head and shoo’ed them to the Floo. “You two…whatever you are…go and do…whatever you wanted. I’ll tell the rest of the lot Goodbye or something. See you. I guess.” He waved them goodbye and pushed them through the green fire.

“One would guess he was less delicate about the imagination of us being intimate.”, Draco stated dryly. “But at least – who might have guessed – he is a decent player.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates are - and will be- slow. I've had my second child on February 28th and, well, time is even more limited than before now. Please stay patient with me...  
> Thank you guys ;-)


	16. A warning

“It is funny, though”, Draco said when they stepped out of the fireplace. “I would never have expected the Weasley family being so friendly and welcoming. Concerning my person, one would have expected hostility and hatred. Anger, at least.” Harry frowned at him, trying to answer but Draco’s hand stopped him from interrupting.

“I was fully prepared to be on the receiving end of their emotions, be assured. I still find myself unable to believe their absence.”

“Well-“, Harry started. “It might have been that I talked to them before we went there. About you, I mean. The way you changed. What you did for me. How you help me. And stuff.”, he added when the blond still looked at him questioningly. Draco raised an eyebrow. “Alright, fine, Kingsley and I told them about every detail of your trial, your struggles and your charity; not to mention that Ron suddenly felt some kind of urge to protect you. Never would’ve seen that coming, though.”

Draco’s face stayed suspiciously emotionless. “So you spent – what – hours and days to convince them that I, their worst enemy’s son, would be worth withstanding?” Harry shrunk a little, trying to figure out whether or not his actions were appreciated. When the tension seemed to overwhelm him, he started stuttering an apology, but Draco only laughed. “You indeed are a fool, Potter.” He gave him a gentle kiss. “Thank you, but I wish to fight my own battles in the future. Do not forget that I did terrible things during the war and even before and that they should not, under any circumstances, be forgotten easily.”

Harry seemed to think that statement through, then nodded and grinned. “Alright. By the way: You said Potter. Dinner’s your responsibility tomorrow.”

“Forget it. The circumstances demanded the title. I may allow you to feed me, though.”

They shared their evening with rather sleepy mutual blowjobs (Harry still blushed even at the thought) and fell asleep naked next to each other. Only a few hours later though, Harry was again wide awake and unable to fall asleep once more. He watched the other boy sleep until Draco started turning and twisting in his sleep. He whimpered lightly and seemed to beg for – Harry didn’t understand the words. He shook the other boy awake and together they lay next to each other in silence. Draco prepared to leave early the next morning and promised to come back for the dinner he owed Harry later that night.

“I thought I could maybe...we could go somewhere.”, Harry said. “Some Muggle place, a little fancy but I guess you might like it. You wouldn’t have to pay, of course. We’ll save your dinner for later. I’d like to take you out if that’s ok?”, he asked, sounding a little unsure and not looking the other one in the eyes.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Still too shy to ask me out on a date, Potter? I guess I have to remind you of my absolute devotion regarding your person.” Naked, he went back into the bed and crawled towards Harry and gave him a spectacular view on his muscled body. When he reached his knees, he nudged them apart with his nose and started kissing his way up the inside of Harry’s left thigh. The black haired ten shivered – especially when Draco reached his groin but instead of moving there, he went back and started the same procedure on the right side, licking and nibbling his way up.

“This is torture.”, Harry moaned. “Please, Draco, I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?”, Draco questioned and Harry nodded. “Then ask me convincingly. With self-confidence and no doubt.”, the blond told him and started lightly teasing Harry’s scrotum with his talented lips. And his tongue. “Oh, Merlin. Draco, please!”, he begged with a shy voice but no avail.

“Ask me, Harry. Show me that you don’t doubt me or yourself.”, his tormentor ordered and licked a long strip down until he reached Harry’s pucker. His legs started shaking when Draco stayed there, caressing the wrinkled skin with his tongue and teeth. Suddenly, Harry felt a nonverbal charm cleaning his lower region and that wonderful tongue entered him. “Oh, yes, please Draco, I need…ah…” He noticed the eyebrow that was raised at him and remembered his instruction.

“Draco, I’d love to go out with you. Please?”, he managed to say and promptly groaned as a lubed finger entered him in reward. “Once more, Harry, with conviction.”, Draco whispered and twisted his digit, making space for a second one that followed soon. He started to massage Harry’s prostate.

“Whoa, yes, don’t stop…Merlin!” Harry was barely able to think through the sensations. He felt tense and strained, working his way up to the edge but it was not enough. Draco’s mouth was still on his scrotum, his fingers doing un-magical magic inside him but never giving him the release he craved. “Draco Malfoy, will you be my date tonight? I’d like to take you out for dinner.”, he nearly yelled and was promptly rewarded with a soft and insistent mouth around his prick. The tension coiled and coiled until Harry came; loud and uninhibited, squeezing Draco’s fingers (when had it become three?) and flooding his throat. This time, Draco swallowed but quickly summoned a bottle of water from the kitchen to rinse the taste.

“See, it was not that much of a task, was it?”, he asked innocently. Harry tackled him, threw the perplexed man onto the bed and attacked his mouth with his own. His hand wandered down until he reached his erection. Draco didn’t last long.

In the evening, Harry fidgeted nervously in front of his (well, previously Sirius’) talking mirror. “He’ll think I look ridiculous, this is so stupid”, he muttered while trying to fix his tie. “My boy, it is indeed ridiculous that an adult is unable to dress properly.”, the mirror scolded. “Use the proper charm to fix your appearance and stop bothering the both of us.”

“FINE!”, Harry yelled and got his wand. “ _Compone focale._ ”, he said and the tie went into position. “Better?”, he asked the mirror and left without waiting for an answer. They met in front of the lovely Italian restaurant Harry had chosen. Draco wore a dark blue suit and looked – “Wow.”, Harry said. “Just…I think…I should…”

“- You should shut your mouth and accept that we both are superiorly dressed and coifed beings.”, Draco interrupted and held the door. Hours of eating, drinking and talking later, they were still in their seats, unwilling to leave the secluded corner of romance.

No matter how hard Harry tried and tried, though, he couldn’t believe that this was his new reality. This felt – wrong. He nearly felt happy. Wasn’t he supposed to be dead? Shouldn’t he at least do something useful, smart or at least sacrificing? Draco seemed to sense a shift of his mood and inquired. “What is it that doth dampen thy temper, oh Boy-Wonder?”

Shrugging, Harry mumbled “Just a bit tired, you know. It’s been a rough night, as usual.” The blondes’ eyes constricted but he remained silent. They finally prepared to leave the establishment when a flash lightened their surroundings and blended them.

“Mr. Potter, how can you betray us all like that?!”, a sneering voice asked. The reporter had appeared out of nowhere – he was a wizard; that much was for sure. His Muggle clothing was a rather unfortunate combination of garments and his camera moved so wildly that it would even have given an owl some severe headaches. Harry dragged Draco to the door, panic rising within him. He’d always hated reporters, sure, but since summer he barely had one single moment outdoors to himself unless he used Polyjuice Potion or Disillusioned himself.

“I already see the headline: Chosen One compromised by Death Eater.”, the reporter exclaimed, following them. “Shaming the rebellion and its cause, whoops!” They stood in front of a blocked door. Draco was the first to swear. “Shut up, shut up, shut up.”, Harry murmured while the guy kept talking. His panic arose again. “I wonder if your Order of Merlin would be deprived. You are a traitor, Mr. Potter, aren’t you?”

Fighting his anger along with a growing panic attack, Harry tried to push the man aside. “Leave us alone! Go away, you leech.” but the man stood his ground. “I don’t think so.”, the photographer grinned evilly. “The world has a right to know your debauchery: The Boy Who Lived in shame.”, he taunted.

Draco seemed catch his reason first. He turned towards Harry, shunning out the reporter for a small moment. “Harry, listen, I know you didn’t want this” he pointed between the both of them “to come out so quickly, but in the end, it does not matter. This scurrilous being will not cease until he has his pictures in the prophet. Let us go home and send for our solicitors to execute damage control measures. Breathe with me, alright. And you, _shut up_!”, he shouted towards the still blabbering man. “You have your headline, so begone!”

“Oh, why so cranky, Mr Evil-Tattoo?!”, he answered. “One would think you had some nicer things to say now that you’re dipping your black end into the Golden Boy.”

Draco stood, suddenly all aristocratic offspring in his features. He stood tall and looked the man up and down while Harry still struggled to breathe. “You have two choices here, plebeian.” He rose one finger into the man’s face. “One, you continue to stand in our way, causing Mr. Potter here a distinctive relapse into his psychosis – and I would love for you to run the gauntlet all over Britain wherever you go – but I think we both can guess that each and every of Mr. Potter’s family and friends – who, by the way are aware of our proclivity towards each other – would pursue you in revenge. Can you imagine meeting Mrs. Weasley or Ms. Granger under such dire circumstances.”

The reporter paled a little but stood his ground.

“The public has a right to know…”

“Two, you leave right now. You will wait exactly for 24 hours until this photography will be given to the Prophet so we might have a chance to retreat in peace and – maybe, if you are very lucky – we shall desist from pressing charges against you.” Draco stepped closer, wand drawn and his stare as cold and frightening as it used to be a long time ago. The reporter shot him a cold stare.

“Whatever. I’ve got what I needed.” He spat at the ground in front of Draco. “Just a little warning, Mr. Malfoy. When this gets out, people will hate you even more. Both sides loathe you but now they have every reason to crucify you. Maybe your little lover, too. See what happens when the public drags him through the mud along with you!”

With that, he disappeared and left a panting Harry and a fuming Draco behind. The blond kneeled down next to the other boy and slowly helped him up.

“Come on, Harry, let me take you home. It is time to arm ourselves.”  


End file.
